


A Wizard With a Smartphone

by MystyVander



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe Career, Auror, Career, M/M, Ministry of Magic, Post War, Post-Hogwarts, muggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystyVander/pseuds/MystyVander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry gives Draco, his soon to be colleague and ex-nemesis, a muggle gift. He doesn't expect it to bring them closer together. Soon he must choose between his long-term relationship and Draco. The choice appears easier than he thought it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> A couple of things to quickly say:  
> This is a short, light hearted fic!  
> I do not have a Beta so please excuse any SPaG, I try to catch them but am far from a good editor!  
> I know the timeline is askew from canon timeline so please bear with me on that one!
> 
> Please review, they mean the world to me! ^_^

Ron was in a fit of laughter only interrupted by his hiccups induced from too much of Odgen’s finest. Hermione, her hand massaging her swollen belly, glared between her husband and best friend. “You can’t send him that. Harry, this is absurd!”

“Oh, but I can, ‘Mione,” Harry grinned. “I put my number in it, too. Anonymously, of course. Downloaded a couple of apps, added myself where necessary. This is going to be brilliant!” Harry chimed, cheeks flushed as he wrapped the brand new smartphone in bubble wrap.

“This is _not_ how I meant to put the past behind you so you could work together without throttling one another. Sending Draco Malfoy a Muggle device for his birthday – he won’t even know it’s from you!” She protested.

“Hey. It’s expensive as hell, ‘Mione and I’m paying the bill for it, too! If that’s not a gesture of kindness I don’t know what is!” He smirked broadly. “I’m also sending it _muggle_ post,” he continued on delightedly, “Imagine Malfoy in a muggle post office picking this up!”

Ron’s laughter turned raucous, he bent over in his armchair clutching his stomach. “This is bloody brilliant, mate! This has to be the best gift I have ever seen!”

“But what about charging, Harry? The phone will die eventually, probably before he even figures out how to use it,” Hermione continued to find any bit of reason not to send it. She found the idea cruel. She was trying her hardest to get the two old enemies to work alongside one another, not continuously against.

Harry lifted up a rolled scrap of parchment. “I’ve left pretty basic instructions on how to operate it. Even Malfoy should be able to figure it out after a while. And I’ve given him that spell Justin taught us.”

“You’ve really thought of everything mate, haven’t you?” Ron cheered. “If he ever brings it to the office you have to promise to tell me immediately, it’ll be too good to miss. And think of all the things you can send him! Harry! You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Harry took another lengthy sip from his Odgen’s mixture, emptying the glass and pushing it across his best friends’ kitchen table. “Now, what do I write in the card?” Harry and Ron broke into sniggers.

Hermione sighed, standing up and collecting her friend and husbands dirty glasses, frowning as she dumped them off in the sink. “How do I just know nothing good is going to come of this…”

* * *

Monday’s were everybody’s least favourite day but most especially Draco Malfoy’s. Not all Monday’s but this particular one. “Who in Salazar’s name is that?” Draco hissed as he peered out of his bedroom window, peering down at his front door.

Blaise Zabini came up behind Draco, looking over his shoulder. “I think those people deliver post.”

“So, it’s like a muggle owl?” Draco asked perplexed, eyes still narrowing at the man with a heavy bag slung over both of his shoulders.

“You’re so bloody ignorant, you know that, right?” Blaise grumbled.

Draco harrumphed and crossed his arms. “And _you_ are no fun now that you’re dating a muggle.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “I’ll get it. It’s probably from Sadie, anyway.”

Draco turned from the window when the knock began rapping on the door and grabbed his light, summer robe. The Ministry of Magic crest shone against his breast, his last name scrawled boldly beneath it. “Oi! Malfoy! It’s for you!” Blaise yelled shrilly from downstairs.

Draco paused with surprise. A muggle mail carrier. For _him_? He didn’t even associate or know anybody, save acquaintances from work, who would know how to send anything via Muggle post. “That’s what I get for buying a house bordering muggle London,” he muttered to himself and swept down the two flights of stairs in his small, attached townhome.

When he came to the door the man he had been watching from above seemed smaller yet his bags heavier from up close. “Er, are you Dray-coo Malfoy?”

Draco’s face contorted into a heavily displeased sneer at the sound of his name. He snatched the package from the outstretched arm as if touching him would burn his skin. “Yes I am he. You may leave,” Draco bowed his head and turned to leave but Blaise, sniggering to himself, yanked him back toward the door. “What? Do you tip mail carriers, too?” Draco hissed in a barely audible, appalled whisper.

Blaise’s face as alit with bemusement as he shook his head. “You have to sign here, sir.” The mail carrier held out an odd device to Draco who looked at it for a few moments before reluctantly taking it and the strange, hard rubber quill. He wrote on the paper that was oddly lit on the device, his signature scrawled across the entire thing. “Have a lovely day.” With that the mail carrier was gone, Draco blinking after him.

“What was that apparatus? What is he going to do with _my_ signature?” Draco asked skeptically.

“It’s just whoever sent it requested you signed for it, just to make sure it securely got to you specifically which is why I couldn’t take it for you. Now, who the hell is sending _you_ muggle post?” Blaise asked, his curiosity getting the better of him instead of his need to get to work on time. Neville would forgive him, he always did.

“I do not even know anybody that associates with the kind,” Draco sniffed, his hand running over the poorly wrapped package. The brown paper was barely held together with a mess of red string. There was his name and address on it, nothing else.

Blaise elbowed his best friend and housing host in the ribs hard enough to bruise. “You know me. And stop talking about muggle’s that way, grow up, Malfoy,” he chastised.

Draco shrugged. Blaise knew he truly didn’t care about pureblood purity anymore and he was even keen on a few certain Muggle contraptions and lifestyles, but that didn’t stop him from feeling completely segregated from the Muggle culture and vice versa. “Come on then, open it already!” Blaise cheered him on.

Before he began to unwrap the rectangular, squishy parcel, Draco went into his kitchen and place it down on his gleaming, spotless marble countertops. He withdrew his wand, muttering under his breath as Blaise rolled his eyes and went off to brew a pot of coffee for the both of them. “Breakfast this morning?” he asked, knowing his friend refused to open any mail without checking for traps, curses or hexes first.

“I am not particularly in the mood. Coffee though, if you would.”

“Already am. Merlin knows I don’t want to face you after nine am without caffeine,” Blaise teased as Draco shoved his wand back into his robe pocket and scrunched his nose disapprovingly at his friend.

“Scissors?” Draco asked. Blaise paused in filling the coffee filter and brought him over some scissors. He clipped carefully through the red strings and then sliced down the side of the package. A few pops were heard that at first alarmed him. Once the parcel wrapping paper was off, he stared confused at what appeared to be more cushioning. It was like little transparent bubbles. He had never seen such a thing before. He fingered it between his hands and then squeezed one of the bubbles curiously. It gave a satisfying pop that made him jump and reflexively smile altogether. “What is this?” he wondered aloud, popping another one.

Blaise was looking at it for a long moment before shrugging. “Looks like more wrapping. I’ll have to ask Sadie what it is. Here, look,” he reached out and turned the bubbles over in Draco’s hand, there was a card taped to the underside.

“Happy Birthday, Draco,” he read aloud and then clicked his tongue. “Too bad my birthday was last week.”

“Muggle post is rather unreliable,” Blaise pointed out, for the sake of whoever sent it. Though he tried to pretend he wasn’t, he was more interested in the gift and the signature at the end of the card than anything else and that included coffee which he had now left to brew on its own.

Draco pulled the card of the envelope, inspecting the familiar, sloppy writing. His face was scrunched up as he examined it carefully. The front of the card was an oddly still picture of a little toddler boy holding a kitten, smothering it, almost. And the simple greeting of Happy Birthday written in somebody else’s ink. “Dear Draco Malfoy, Thinking of you on your twenty second birthday. I hope all your wishes come true. I have left instructions for your gift inside the bubble wrap. If you have any questions, please feel free to message me. Happy birthday! P.S. I do hope this gets to you on time, muggle post can be truly unreliable.”

“Who signed it?” Blaise asked too quickly, snatching the card from Draco’s hands. “Well that’s odd, there’s no signature.”

“At least we figured out it is a witch or wizard who sent it, considering their use of the term muggle,” Draco deduced. “Bubble wrap. Odd thing,” he muttered as he began to peel away the bubbles, resisting the strong urge to pop each one of them. When he got to the middle of it he found the promised note of necessary instructions along with a gleaming new telephone. It was small, thin and a bright green colour on the back side of it. He had seen these things before. Blaise had one similar to it but smaller, rectangular and black. He knew what they were though he himself had never touched one.

“Wow! Draco, that’s the newest iPhone! Sadie just got one, too, but hers is pink!” Blaise huddled over it. Draco huffed, turning it over in his hands a couple of times, running his fingers across the seamless screen. He was never particularly interested in using one of these before, especially since there were only very few he knew who had them asides from the Muggleborns and very few others at the Ministry. He disliked how, when Sadie was gone for too long, Blaise would obsess over the lit screen and ignore all else around him. Draco found, from his small experiences with them, it turned people ignorant.

“Why would somebody send me a telephone?” Draco was perplexed by the entirety of it as he pressed the only button on the front part of the screen and it lit up, making his eyes go wide as he read the time, date and message that went across the screen telling him how to unlock it and that he had a message awaiting him.

“It’s called a cellphone. Telephones aren’t portable,” Blaise corrected.

“It says I have a message. How do I look at it?” Draco asked, perhaps the person would reveal themselves in the message.

Blaise stood beside him now and instructed him on how to navigate to the messages. “It’s from somebody named Evans. It says ‘I hope you have fun with your new phone, Malfoy.’ Do you know anybody named Evans?” Draco shook his head mutely. The device, like most Muggle devices, baffled him. But, just like the microwave, the coffee brewer and even the television, over time Draco learned how to adapt and figure out their odd inventions. “Whoever sent this to you has an odd sense of humour,” Blaise remarked.

“What do you mean? You don’t think it’s a genuine gift?” Draco sounded offended.

Blaise chuckled. “No, I do, but they must think it’s funny, too. To watch Draco Malfoy, the purest pureblood of them all, struggle over the mysteries of a cellphone. At least they were nice enough to leave instructions. But that phone is bloody expensive so whoever it was at least had some galleons to spare or didn’t mind spending it on you.”

Draco blinked. The thought hadn’t occurred to him that this odd gift could be expensive. Now the desire to find out who the gift giver was, was even stronger. “Ah. Coffee,” Blaise sighed elatedly as he poured himself a freshly brewed cup to go. “As much as I would love to sit here all day and ponder over who sent this to you, I’ve really got to get going or else Neville might not forgive me this time.”

Draco snorted. “Longbottom always forgives you because he knows you will always be late. You work in a nursery for Merlin’s sake, the plants can take care of themselves.”

“They need just as much tending and care as a newborn,” Blaise retorted. Draco always teased him for his choice in career. He thought perhaps at first it was because of who ran the nursery, that his boss and newly found friend was Neville Longbottom of all people, but it was merely because it was Malfoy. “At least I don’t have to sit in an office all day sorting through files with Potter.”

Draco forgot the phone entirely at the mention of the name as he groaned. “Thank the stars I only have to work with him once a week. He is the worst part of Monday’s.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have picked a career chronicling the Ministry then?” Blaise returned. “What else would Potter become if not a goody-two-shoes Auror?”

Draco grunted in response and pocketed the phone along with its instructions. He really did have to get going unless he wanted to hear Potter berate him all morning. They left through the Floo Network one right after the other and as Draco landed in the employee entrance corridor of the Ministry of Magic, his hand was stuffed inside his robe pocket, running across the blank screen of the odd device as he made his way to Harry Potter’s office.

Ever since his six months in Azkaban was served Draco spent all of two years clearing his name. There was initial battle with both the Ministry and Gringotts to reclaim what was rightfully his assets as his Father was serving life in Azkaban. His mother, now a recluse, stayed primarily in their summer home in Northern France. She had friends there, most unaffected by the War that she surrounded herself with. It made her happy, especially with the absence of Lucius. Draco would Floo to visit her every couple of weeks for dinner or tea but she was never quite as close to him as she used to be. Draco feared it was the resemblance to his father that distanced her.

After his name was cleared and all his assets were in their rightful order, he freed most of the House Elves save the few it took to keep the Manor in its current state. He was never sure why he didn’t outright sell it, he owed nothing to the generations before him. His mother and he would spend holidays there together still. Perhaps it was the lingering of his father’s presence in the corridors that allowed him to hold onto it. He decided to settle in a small home just large enough for himself. However, he hadn’t expected his best friend to divorce his other friend so soon after their marriage and ask to move in. Blaise extended his visit to a seemingly permanent resident. Draco, though he would never admit it, was glad he no longer had to live alone.

He had very few career opportunities. He always wanted to pursue his interest in potions but instead he kept it as a hobby, his small lab set up in his basement. An opening at the Ministry proved perfect for him. It had been two years since he accepted the posting of Cataloguer. It seemed so trivial, so mundane, but Draco loved it. For the first two years he was a mere apprentice of Mrs Roberta Newhook. She was due to retire and had been the Ministry’s cataloguer for fifty seven years. Draco would follow along with her to some of her weekly meetings but every Monday he would, thankfully, be left to his own devices of editing and filing the previous weeks’ paperwork instead of joining her in the Auror department.

 _‘Head Auror. Tch. Only Potter could become Head Auror so fast._ ’ Draco took a deep, staggering breath and knocked on the closed, wooden door. Usually he would be stopped by a secretary, Granger, who technically worked for the Magical Creature Department but their department had been condensed and spilled out onto the second office floor of Auror’s. It was another reason Draco hated coming up here. It was too damn busy all the time. Two departments under one roof. Granger’s desk was situated just in front of the Head Auror’s office and she always acted, without need, as secretary to Potter according to Mrs Newhook.

“Come in,” Potter grunted from inside.

Draco sighed again. He really did dislike Monday’s. Before entering he took the cellphone out of his pocket again and pressed the middle button. There were no notifications or new messages, the time and date shone up at him and he sighed, shoving it back into his robes. When he entered he immediately gaped. There were piles of papers strewn apart the office, filling cabinets some open, some closed and some that obviously hadn’t been touched in ages due to the layer of dust upon them. Draco couldn’t even see Potter’s desk beneath the disorganized pile of things. Then there was Potter himself, sitting hunched over in a chair pushed off to the corner of the room, mulling over a piece of parchment paper.

Finally he lowered the paper and met Draco’s appalled look with a smug smirk. “Malfoy, shut your mouth and the door, would you?”

Draco snapped out of his stupor and did just that, his mouth becoming a long, thin sneer. It seemed as though the years hadn’t been particularly kind to Potter, at least in this light. His dark hair was unruly as ever and fell just above his shoulders now. Though he had finally performed a visionary correction charm, his eyes were heavily bagged. He was fit enough, being Head Auror and all, but otherwise he looked worn, thin and older than he should. His robe sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and revealed a long, wide gash that encircled his upper forearm. Draco stared at it curiously for a few moments.

Harry watched his old classmate carefully. Though Draco looked different he didn’t at the same time. His hair was still perfectly combed, parted in the middle and fell just above his ears. It was platinum as ever, matching his fair skin that Harry could swear never saw the light of day. He looked aged but younger than his years, as if still a teenager, although his height made him tower over everybody else. He was still lean, not scrawny but in no way physically shaped, either. He followed the piercing grey eyes and their line of sight to his scar and sniffed. “Rogue werewolf last year. Bugger nearly got me,” Harry said conversationally.

“It appears he did get you,” Draco returned, crossing his arms at his chest as he remained unmoved from the doorway.

Harry found himself smirking. “I guess he did, but only just before I knocked that bastard right off his feet and arrested him.”

“On a full moon? How did you manage to do that?” Draco asked. He was genuinely curious.

Over the years he had read a few stories here and there regarding the great Harry Potter and his triumphs over many evils but most he assumed were fabrications. Harry shrugged and returned his gaze back to his parchment trying not to appear smug that Malfoy of all people seemed impressed with something he had done. “Thing about werewolves and many other creatures like them, they live off of instinct and act on impulse. They never suspect the other party to be thinking two steps ahead.”

Draco nodded slowly. A thick silence wrapped around the two of them for a few moments. Other than the courteous nod of the head as they passed one another by, this was the longest they had spoken since the Death Eater trials themselves. Draco shifted the weight of his feet, he didn’t know where to begin and he also couldn’t describe why he was feeling nervous. It was only Potter.

“I see why Roberta had to dedicate an entire day to organizing your department whereas most of the others only take a few hours,” Draco commented.

Harry chuckled lowly. “I hate paperwork. I swear it will be the death of me.”

Draco shook his head. “Did anybody ever tell you that you are melodramatic Potter?”

“That’s rich coming from you.” At first Draco thought those words were meant to harm but then he saw the small grin poking out around the corners of his lips.

Ignoring the comment Draco finally moved from his position by the door and sat down at the only other seat that wasn’t covered in piles of books and folders or loose parchments. “Lucky for you I love paperwork.” 


	2. Chapter Two

“When I took the Head Auror position I didn’t realize there’d be so much bloody paperwork involved. Not to mention all the _politics_. Am I allowed to ask to be demoted?” Harry groaned as soon as his best friend joined him at the Leaky Cauldron. It was Monday evening and every Monday evening was their night out together, usually followed by a long walk to Harry’s flat where Ron would Floo home to his pregnant, waiting wife.

Ron huffed at his friend. “Try being a recruiter. It’s awful, mate. I’m right with you in wanting to be a regular Auror again but at least I still get patrols. You’re the best damn Head of the department anybody has seen for a long time, though, good luck getting out of that one.”

“Yeah, right. Here,” Harry passed Ron a mug of Firewhiskey he had waiting for him. “What kept you?”

“McArthur decided it’d be funny if he used a sticking charm on the training room doors. _All of them_. Had to get a curse breaker to come all the way from Unspeakables just to open the damn things back up!” Ron shook his head as Harry laughed lightly. They went silent for a moment, sipping at their drinks as few others bustled around them. The solidarity of the Leaky Cauldron on a Monday was why they choose it as their day out. It was less likely to be interrupted by people wanting Harry’s autograph. “Alright. Out with it. The fact you haven’t mentioned anything yet is killing me.”

Harry looked up at Ron perplexed. “What do you mean?”

Ron rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “You know what I mean. How awful was it working with Malfoy? Did you hex him? Punch him?”

“Neither. He actually wasn’t so bad.”

Ron gaped at his friend. “Wasn’t so bad? He’s Malfoy!”

“I think maybe we were jumping to the conclusion that Malfoy hadn’t grown up since school. It was awkward at first but then he just got right to it. He’s a lot faster than Roberta ever was. He didn’t smell like moth balls, either. It really wasn’t half bad,” Harry shrugged.

Ron snorted into his mug. “Maybe Azkaban did him some good then.”

“I reckon Azkaban never does anybody any good. Maybe he just grew up.”

“Maybe. Don’t be expecting any more than that, he’s still Malfoy,” Ron warned. He knew Harry had a thing for collecting odd friends and wayward strays. It was like an uncontrollable habit of his. Although the amnesty for the Slytherin would always remain for Ron, he too had grown. He knew he served his time and he along with Harry stood for him during the trials.

Harry’s phone, shoved in his pocket as usual, made a small dinging noise. Too quickly he took it from his pocket, slightly disappointed that it wasn’t a response from Malfoy. He still probably didn’t figure it out. “Malfoy?” Ron inquired. Harry shook his head. “Migel then,” Ron conceded. “How are you two doing?”

Harry shrugged, sighing. It was indeed Migel, asking where he was. He asked the same question every Monday and always received the same answer. This time, however, Harry decided not to respond at all. It wouldn’t make any difference. “We’re alright. I finally caved and gave him my key.”

“You shouldn’t have, mate. I really tried to like him, I did. But he’s so _clingy_ ,” Ron shuddered.

“And I’m okay with that. I mean, it’s the total opposite from what Ginny was but it’s the jealousy I can’t deal with.”

Ron nodded, “I hear yah. I thought you two sorta made sense together when I first saw you after I got over the whole…” he leaned in closer to his friend and whispered, “…gay thing. But now, the more I get to know him the less I see it. I don’t mean no offence but I’ve no problem you being with guys and all but it might be beneficial to date a wizard next time.”

Harry shook his head vigorously. He was glad his friends hadn’t minded when he came out, which thankfully hadn’t made the Daily Prophet seeing as he was dating a Muggle, but Ron was right, him and Migel didn’t make much sense any more. Their personalities clashed all too often. “You know I can’t. It’s bloody impossible to find somebody who sees me for who I am from our world. Everybody thinks I’m either the great savior or some amazing legendary, youngest Head Auror or some damaged boy from the War. I can’t stand it. I don’t want my partner to see me as The Boy Who Lived, I want them to see me for me.”

“Is that why-“

“No,” Harry said quickly and firmly. Ron always asked and the answer was always the same. Ginny had been wonderful but in the end, when their relationship became more intimate, Harry discovered what he liked wasn’t something Ginny had to offer. She had been furious and still was two years later. Whenever they saw each other on holidays or passed one another they would be friendly but her eyes would always look so coldly onto him.

“Have you ever considered Migel might be so jealous because he has no idea where you go or what you do for work?” Ron offered.

“I tell him everything I do and it’s still not enough,” Harry countered. It was true. Migel knew what he was, a Wizard, he knew generally about his job and what he did when he was in Diagon Alley or at the Leaky Cauldron with Ron.

“You don’t, though. He’s never seen any of it. I dunno, just think if you were a muggle and were seeing a wizard folk and they never showed you their work or where they went with their friends all night? You’ve only ever brought him to our house and the Burrow. Just sayin’ a trip to the office or Diagon Alley wouldn’t do too much harm, would it?”

Harry sighed, his phone went off again and he didn’t have to look at it to know it was his boyfriend again. “Bringing him here would only cause trouble. You know how out of hand Rita Skeeter will get.”

“Just think about it, mate. If that doesn’t solve your issues with Migel I really think it ought to be time to move on.”

Now his phone began ringing loudly. A few neighbouring tables were looked oddly at Harry as he pulled it out and pressed a few buttons before putting it back in. “He’s calling now. Guess that means I better get going before he sends out search parties. Cheers, mate.” Harry unloaded a couple of Galleons onto the table and threw back the rest of his Firewhiskey.

The walk home wasn’t a particularly long one. Harry lived about five blocks from the Leaky Cauldron. His flat was small, homey, just the way he liked it. He was above a coffee shop which he visited all too often, especially on their band and open mic evenings. It was at that shop that Harry met Migel, one of the workers there. Harry took a deep breath, straightening his robes as he did, before entering his open flat.

It was less than ten seconds before Migel was glaring down at him. He was a tall, slender man with short blond hair. He had a very feminine nature. His blue eyes pierced into Harry like daggers and Harry all but winced in return, sighing as he shrugged off his cloak and threw it over the coat hanger, kicking off his shoes as he did. “Why didn’t you respond to me, Harry?” Migel hissed. He had that same accusing tone he always took with Harry.

Harry pushed past him and went straight for the bedroom to take off his work clothes. “I was with Ron, you know that.”

“Were you?”

Harry rolled his eyes, tossing his shirt into his hamper along with his trousers and then turning to rummage through his untidy wardrobe for a loose t-shirt. “You know I was. Call Hermione and ask here if you want.”

Migel scoffed and entered the bedroom, his arms still crossed tight across his chest. “I don’t see why you have to go drinking with Ron every night when you could be spending time with me.”

“I do not go out with him e _very_ night. It’s once, maybe twice a week, and he’s my best mate, I don’t have to make excuses to go out with him whenever I please,” Harry snapped back. He really wasn’t in the mood for it. Harry’s phone, now thrown haphazardly on the bed from him undressing, went off. Migel was unfortunately closer and picked it up, he turned red in the face immediately at the name of the text sender. Harry’s breath caught in his chest.

“Out with Ron, hah. Fuck you, Harry! Who’s _Malfoy_?!” Migel’s voice raised to a dangerous level. Harry snatched the phone from his hand, glaring at him as he did.

“He’s the new cataloguer at the Ministry,” Harry responded, resisting the temptation to look at the finally constructed response to his original message.

“Why is somebody from work messaging you at _nine_ at night?”

Harry whirled around to face him, furious. “Because I’m the bloody head of the department, that’s why! I don’t get time off, Migel! I have to be there whenever they need me and I have to answer whoever asks me questions when they ask it.”

Migel pursed his lips, reigning in his rage. He was always better at controlling his emotions compared to Harry, other than jealousy. “I thought most of your kind don’t use cellphones.”

“They bloody don’t! Does it matter that this one does! Fuck this, Migel,” Harry was shouting now and he knew he shouldn’t be but he couldn’t help it. He had been seeing Migel for over a year now and it seemed the jealousy only got worse by the day. Harry was about to break, he couldn’t take it anymore. Harry attempted to storm out of the room but Migel grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him and pulling him to his body.

“You’re lying to me. You always lie to me,” Migel spat venomously.

Harry growled in the depths of his throat and stormed into his study. It was like his safe place. He had converted the extra bedroom of the flat into a small one, mostly photo albums on the shelves and his old school books along with a few Muggle books as well. There were a few chairs, a loveseat and a work desk in there. There was also a fireplace connected to the Floo network that sat between two chairs. On the mantle lay Harry’s most precious magical items including his small, handheld Pensieve. Hermione and Ron had given it to him for Christmas the previous year. It didn’t hold as many memories as a larger Pensieve could but it was much more practical for a smaller area.

Harry busied himself with looking over the books on the shelf, distracting his mind from Migel who he knew had followed him into the room, still furious. Migel made his way over to the mantle and grabbed a hold of the Pensieve. He turned it over in his hands a few times and before Harry realized what he had it was already too late.

“You never share anything with me, Harry. How am I supposed to trust that you’re being faithful when I really have no idea who you are even after a year?” Migel’s voice was a scornful whisper as he continued turning the object. Harry reflexively reached for it but his boyfriend snatched it away from him, holding it out of reach. “All these stupid things about _your_ world are so much more important to you than our relationship. Why won’t you even share them with me? Why can’t you let me in?” He was pleading now, his voice dripped with desperation.

“Because I…” Harry sighed. How was he supposed to explain this to him without telling him _everything_. And if he did tell him everything, he would become just like everybody else who knew Harry.

Migel’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly. You have no excuse. Fuck you, Harry Potter, you know where to find me when you’ve decided to actually let me into your life.” With one more hateful glare Migel did what Harry hoped he wouldn’t and dropped the Pensieve to the floor. It shattered in an odd pile of jagged pieces at their feet.

Harry would have shouted back but he hadn’t the energy for it. Instead he watched Migel retreat and a few moments later heard the front door slam. Harry sighed, dropping to the floor around the Pensieve. He took out his phone and looked at the response Malfoy had given to his text and found his mouth twitching into a smirk despite his mood. ‘Who are you?’ It merely read. “I wonder how long it took him to type that,” Harry mused.

Instead of responding, Harry opened an application on his phone and took a picture of his Pensieve. He wrote across the picture ‘Can you Reparo a Pensieve?’ and sent it along. He knew Malfoy would take even longer to figure out how to respond to him using different means so he put his phone away and swept the pieces of glass with his wand to the base of his mantle.

Harry fell back into his armchair, rubbing his temples as he did. He wasn’t sure of what to do. To follow Migel or leave it as it was, hoping it could just end. But Harry knew that wasn’t right, that he should at least try to let him into his life. But he wasn’t ready to make that step, to have Migel know him fully and for the Wizarding World to know of his orientation. His phone went off a lot faster than he thought it would.

Malfoy responded with not a picture but a video. Harry raised his eyebrows as he watched the quick video. It was of what looked like a smashed wine glass. Malfoy’s wand was seen and he moved it in a slow, circular motion as he clearly pronounced the incantation ‘ _Instauro._ ’ The wine glass mended itself perfectly and just as Harry had finished the video there was another buzz from his phone and a text message from Malfoy.

“Malfoy’s getting the hang of the phone faster than I ever thought he would. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him any instructions at all,” Harry muttered to himself.

‘A simple Reparo will not do a Pensieve justice. Instauro is a stronger version of the same charm and the sooner you do it after the break the more likely the Pensieve is to retain the memories it holds.’

Harry quickly pointed his wand at the pile of glace and clearly spoke the same incantation, “ _Instauro_.” His Pensieve pulled itself back together, he largely grinned and placed it back in its rightful place on the mantle. ‘Thank you. It worked perfectly.’

The response was once again quicker than Harry expected. ‘No problem. Who are you?’ Came the persistent question again.

‘In time I’ll tell you, I promise.’ Harry was being honest, he knew he _would_ eventually tell him who he was, but not now, not yet. He had a gateway to talk to Draco Malfoy without being who he was. He was intrigued most of all, of who the ex-Slytherin would be without his reservations due to who Harry was. ‘You seem to have gotten the hang of the cellphone pretty fast’ Harry added.

‘Your instructions were rather detailed. My friend also has assisted me, I must admit. Odd things these telephones. Alas, most muggle inventions do perplex me.’

Harry blinked and had to stop himself from laughing out loud. Did Malfoy just admit that Muggle inventions confused him? That certainly wasn’t the Malfoy he knew from school who would put down anything remotely related to muggle’s. Then again, the Malfoy in his office today was also a different person from who he remembered. ‘What gave you the idea to gift me with this, oh great stranger?’

Harry chuckled beneath his breath. If only Malfoy knew who he was texting would he try to make jokes as he was? Perhaps he assumed it was an admirer doing all of this. ‘I thought it would intrigue you.’

‘It does. I would like to give you proper thanks for it, if I ever do get to be graced by your presence.’

Harry could almost hear the sarcasm through the text. He snorted, “If only you knew, Malfoy.” Even with the distractions of their messages, Harry’s mind kept wandering back to Migel and what he should do. He took a deep breath. “It can’t hurt, he doesn’t know who you are and an objective view is always a good one,” he assured himself aloud before sending his next message. ‘Would you risk revealing a secret so important to you just for the sake of a relationship?’

It was nearly five minutes before Harry had his response and by then he had chewed his thumb nail nearly down to the bone. ‘It depends on the severity of the secret and the importance of the relationship. That was a very broad question, context is necessary.’

‘I can’t give anymore context than that.’

‘Does this person mean a lot to you? Ask yourself if they are more important than the secret.’

‘What if you don’t know?’

‘Do you love them?’ Harry sighed. He thought he did but lately, no, not quite. Malfoy sent another message. ‘Is there a chance that they love you?’

‘Yes.’

‘If there is a chance they love you the secret is not as important as them.’

Harry became stilled. “Did Malfoy just sound sensible? Did Malfoy actually give _good_ relationship advice?” He was in awe at first but then really heard his words. He was right. Migel had been good to Harry, other than the possessive jealousy. They had plenty of good times together over the past year and they had been exclusive to one another for so long. Migel was Harry’s first so despite his short comings he would always mean something to Harry. Perhaps it was time to let him in, let him see what he hadn’t seen of him yet.

‘Thank you. I have to go right my wrongs. Have a good night, Draco.’

‘Good luck.’


	3. Chapter Three

The week came and went before it was Monday again. Harry neglected messaging Malfoy of his own volition and was surprised to receive none from him. He was concentrating on his relationship with Migel, hoping it wasn’t too late to mend things that had been falling apart for too long. If he wasn’t at work, he was with him. A lot of the time he spent explaining wizarding customs and practices. He promised that next weekend he would take him to see his office as well as to Diagon Alley and Harry didn’t want it to shock him too much, like he had been shocked at eleven.

For that entire week, he was close to happy with his relationship. Until a fouled mood Malfoy had to storm into his office without knocking and slam the door as if he owned it. Harry jumped, he hadn’t been expecting such an intrusive entrance. “Malfoy, mind my door, would you?” Harry snipped.

Malfoy sneered icily at him, slamming down a folder onto the messy desk. The room was a lot more organized from last week but still needed heavy work. “I had absolutely _no_ sleep last night, Potter. Kindly keep your mouth shut so I can finish this as quickly as possible.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at the obviously disheveled and drained blond. “We could always do this-“

“No,” Draco snapped firmly. “Every Monday for the past seventy years the Head Auror and the cataloguer have gotten together to organize this disastrous, monstrous pile of garbage the Ministry likes to call formality. We will adhere to that, Potter. Shut up and let me do my work without interrupting me, please. Don’t you have dark wizards to run off and catch anyway?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t recall we arrested or killed every Death Eater years ago, _Malfoy_.”

The words seemed to choke Draco suddenly as he stopped in his collection of the next pile of Harry’s papers he was going to organize. When he looked up at him, he was towering over his desk and came a little too close to Harry for his comfort but Harry said nothing of it and instead stared into those intense, stormy eyes. “I served my time, Scarhead. If you’re looking for an apology from me, you’re not likely to get it.”

Harry scoffed as he stood up. “What good would an apology from you do me?” With that Harry swept out of the office leaving Draco to start to his work, angrily muttering to himself. When he returned a few minutes later he seemed much calmer though still tense and exhausted all at once. Harry extended a cup of coffee to him that Draco eyed warily. “It’s coffee. People sometimes drink it,” Harry stated dryly.

Draco continued to stare between the coffee and Harry before slowly taking it. Draco was speechless. Potter had just went out of his way to get him coffee. “Sometimes I forget that you’re too nice for your own good, Potter.”

“If that’s your way of saying thank you, I’ll take what I can get,” Harry muttered and sat back at his desk. “What can I do to help?”

“Same as before,” Draco ordered.

Harry groaned. “More eye witness reports? They’re the worst!” He whined.

“They are also the simplest which is why it best for you to do them.”

“Roberta didn’t make me do them every time,” Harry mumbled.

Draco found himself with the new taste of coffee in his mouth smirking. “Do I look like Roberta?”

Harry bit his lower lip to keep from grinning. “Sort of, yeah.”

“Oh, shove off Potter.”

Harry chuckled beneath his breath. There was still some of the old Malfoy there in his anger, his temper and his insults, but Harry found this newer, mature Malfoy to be tolerable if not entertaining. “What kept you up all night?”

Draco pursed his lips as he continued sifting through the files, taking a handful of them with him to sit in the chair shoved into the corner of the room. “My friend decided it would be absolutely hilarious to make chimes go off every five minutes. I couldn’t bloody stop them,” Draco muttered.

Harry had to cough to hide his laughter. He knew almost immediately what said friend had done with Malfoy’s phone. “How did he do that?” Harry asked, trying not to give it away what he knew Draco had lying in his pocket.

Draco’s face tightened even more. He was obviously contemplating whether or not to tell Harry exactly what happened. “Doesn’t matter. That _friend_ of mine will be hearing from me the minute he gets home tonight.”

Harry took out his phone, causing Draco to eye him curiously from his chair. “My boy – er – this guy I know did the same thing to me before using my phone. I had just gotten it, my first one, I had no idea how to use the damn thing since I had been at Hogwarts for so long. See here,” Harry leaned out of his chair, extending his phone towards Draco who pretended not to be curious whatsoever although Harry could tell he was watching intently. His background picture was of him and Migel, their arms around one another’s waist as they stood near a fire on Guy Fawkes Day. Harry swallowed, he hoped Draco didn’t see how close they were. Harry touched the clock icon. “He made all these separate alarms so even if I turned off one, which I didn’t even figure out how to do, all the others would go off. Eventually I figured out that all you have to do is this,” Harry slid his finger across the on/off button for the alarm. “And it turned it right off.”

Draco snorted. “How you got to be Head Auror astounded me from the moment I heard you received the position. Now that I know you sit around in your office all day playing on your phone it only befuddles me more.”

Harry grinned. “Monday is the only day I’m actually _in_ the office all day. Otherwise its field work. Cataloguers, or anybody for that matter, are not allowed to be unattended with such case sensitive information.”

Draco raised his eyes to meet Harry’s, genuinely surprised. “ _That’s_ why you’re always here when Roberta is? When I will have to be?”

“Why else? Did you think I actually wanted to spend every Monday with somebody who smelt like patchouli and dust?”

Draco bit back a smile. He liked Roberta, he honestly did, but it was a good thing the witch retired when she did. “Moth balls,” he said after a moment.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She smelt like moth balls,” Draco repeated.

Harry lifted up his head and his eyes met Draco’s. They were no longer stormy but a calm grey that bore into his. He was smiling ever so softly, just one corner of his thin mouth slightly inclined. Harry found himself nonsensically beaming back in a way that startled Draco. After a long moment they both turned back to their individual piles of paperwork. Draco was beginning to like Monday’s.

* * *

Friday night came and Harry had barely had a text or Snapchat from Malfoy and he was slightly disappointed. There was one time he sent a Snapchat of the bubble wrap, now depleted, asking where to get it. Through-out the week there were scattered texts about how his friend kept disabling and enabling odd things on his phone and he would need assistance getting in or out of them, Harry was glad to help as he imagined Draco’s frustration rising the more Blaise disturbed him.

He was currently with Migel, hand-in-hand, walking towards one of the clubs they used to frequent but hadn’t been to in a while. Migel’s friends were coming along with them, a female couple and two other heterosexual males. They were all old friends from school and Harry liked them, he truly did, but they could be overwhelming especially after a few drinks. As they were waiting in line at the club Harry’s phone went off. Migel was too engrossed catching up with his friends to notice Harry slip out of his hand to the latest Snapchat from Malfoy.

It was a picture of him holding far too many rolls of bubble wrap, Blaise must have taken the photograph. Draco himself was beaming in it, his grey eyes were mirthful and Harry found himself smiling largely in return. He looked so innocent and childish. Harry couldn’t imagine Draco Malfoy could ever appear to be that way but when he was being somebody other than himself he really did seem like a whole other person. A person Harry was intrigued of learning more about. ‘Muggle Post Offices are fantastic. Look at all this bubble wrap! I am in heaven!’ It was a text that followed the picture and Harry nearly burst out laughing. He had quickly taken a screenshot of the picture, glad that he had, saving it for later.

Their small group was slowly ushered into the club, all but the two guys rushed immediately to the dance floor. Harry followed the two guys, David and Kris, over to the upper floor to find a booth and order some drinks. “So how is work going, Harry?” Kris yelled over the music.

Harry shrugged, “Work is work. How’s the shop coming along?”

Kris and David shared an odd, contemplative look. They were business majors that had graduated that year and wanted to start their own record shop in the west end of the city. “Slowly but surely,” David responded over the booming sound of Muggle music.

“All good things take time, my friend,” Harry raised his long necked beer and the two guys mirrored him before they drank them back. Harry sank back into his seat as David and Kris began to talk about the shop again, Harry tuning in and out as they did. He pulled out his phone and took the time to respond to Malfoy after looking at the saved picture once again. ‘You have no idea how much I enjoyed that picture.’

‘I am glad you enjoyed it. What are you doing on a Friday night?’

Harry smirked and leaned back further in his seat, tilting his phone up to take a picture of his beer on the table with the landscape of the crowd behind him. ‘Having a few drinks with some friends. You?’

The Snapchat that came next had Harry snickering again, causing David and Kris to exchange questioning glances. It was of a roll of bubble wrap laid out on his lap and in the distance was  his feet propped up on the table and what looked like to Harry the Lord of the Rings on television. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Draco really had become integrated with muggle’s. ‘Watching a movie alone…well…sort of…’

A few seconds later another picture popped up and Harry quickly viewed it. It was of the unmistakeable, olive-skinned Blaise Zabini sharing an armchair with a short, skinny violet haired female who was curled up on top of him, their lips feverishly locked. Harry turned red just by looking at the picture. ‘Isn’t that an invasion of their privacy?’

‘They invaded my privacy by doing that in my armchair. I’ll have to burn it afterwards.’

Harry laughed out loud, causing Kris to reach out across the table and snatch his phone up from him but by the time he looked the Snapchat photo and the texts after it were gone. Kris and David exchanged wary looks before leaning toward Harry, their elbows propped identically on the table. “I thought your, uhm, _kind_ , didn’t really use phones?”

“Some do. And hey, I have muggle friends, too,” Harry interjected, the latter of which being half-true.

David and Kris exchanged another sidelong look. “Does Migel know about this friend of yours?”

“Speaking of which…” David said pointedly.

Harry turned about just as Migel whirled himself on top of him and smashed their lips together. He was heaving, sweaty and his hands grasped at either of Harry’s shoulders with a vicelike grip. Harry kissed him back before peeling him off of him, Migel always got excited from dancing. “Come dance with me, Harry! Tasha and Leah are all over each other it’s no _fun_!” Migel whined.

“Sorry love, no can do, you haven’t gotten me nearly drunk enough,” Harry slid Migel off to the side of him and took another drink of his beer.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ll have you dancing in no time, Mr Harry Potter…”

It was well into the early hours of the morning when Harry was stumbling back to his flat alongside Migel. Even for summer, it was cold at three in the morning with nothing other than a light button-up shirt. Harry clung to Migel who hung around his shoulders, they leaned on one another for support. Kris and David had to take a taxi home whereas the girls, Leah and Tasha, lived not far from the club itself. Somewhere in their drunken stumbling, interrupted by sloppy kisses on the sides of streets, they became detoured from their usual route home. “Can’t yah just pop us back home? Do that appear thingy?”

Harry shook his head. “You know I can’t drunk, s’dangerous,” he slurred in return.

“But I’m cold. Isn’t there something you can do to warm me up?” Migel begged, stopping their slow and unsteady stride to pull Harry up close to his body again, their fronts pressed together.

“There is something I can do,” Harry grinned suggestively, “The middle of the street isn’t really a good place to do it though is it?”

Migel hit Harry’s shoulder softly. “I didn’t mean _that_ I meant something yah know, magical.”

Harry sighed. This happened all too often Migel would ask him for the simplest of favours. And when it shouldn’t bother him it truly did. He felt as though at points his magic was being used, or that he was, even when he knew he wasn’t and it was only convenient. Before Harry could respond he heard a familiar voice calling his name that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Potter?” The voice called again, getting nearer.

Harry heard a distant front gate swing open and close as footsteps approached from behind. Migel was looking warily at the person, eyeing him from head-to-toe as he gripped Harry. “Can we help you?” Migel seethed.

Harry turned around to face who he knew was Malfoy but before he said anything his eyes were drawn to the nude, pale torso before him. His mouth opened and closed for a few times before he dragged his eyes back up to meet Draco’s perplexed and shocked gaze. “Potter?” He repeated a third time but more as a need for affirmation.

There was a lump growing in Harry’s throat that he had to force down. He never got sick from drinking but now his stomach clenched. It wasn’t the fact he had run into Malfoy of all people in the middle of the night drunk or that he was shirtless. But that he was with Migel and Malfoy had seen them. He knew. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry spat defensively, he felt suddenly revealed.

Draco raised his eyebrow, a cool mask slid into place replacing his shock as he crossed his arms. “I do live here.”

“Who are you?” Migel snapped again, clinging even closer to Harry.

“Who _he_ is doesn’t matter. C’mon Migel, let’s go home.”

Draco didn’t protest but silently watched the two walk away together, arms slung around one another, as both cast looks over their shoulders at him until he disappeared from view.

“Who was that?” Migel inquired, almost instantaneously sober from the rearing jealousy.

Harry grumbled as he moved to the kitchen, going to the cupboard he kept his potion supplies and tossing Migel a Pepper-Up potion as well as downing himself one. “It was Malfoy from work.”

“That bloke you were texting the other night? You never told me he was gorgeous, Harry. Are you telling me you _work_ with him?” Migel sounded self-conscious and accusing all at once. Harry sighed, rubbed his weary temples and headed off for his bedroom.

‘ _And I was having such a good night and Malfoy had to bloody well ruin it._ ’

“I’ve never looked at him like that,” ‘ _Though he really has become good looking over the years._ ’ “He was always a prat at school and still sort of is.”

Migel harrumphed and didn’t seem satisfied but let it slip for now. “You seem pretty upset you saw him,” he commented as he slipped out of his shirt, tossing it to the floor and kicking his shoes off at the foot of the bed before crawling in, Harry not far behind him.

Harry shrugged and curled up into Migel, he took the taller man into his arms and pressed his chin down against his shoulder, his cheek resting on his neck. “Nobody likes running into Malfoy,” Harry muttered.

* * *

The next day was the big day. ‘ _What does it matter that Malfoy found out before everybody else would? It doesn’t even matter_.’ Harry shook the thought from his head as he apparated to just outside the Weasley Wizarding Wheeze’s, where he would be meeting Ron and Hermione that morning. Migel was going to meet him a block away from the Leaky Cauldron just after lunch for his first introduction into the wizarding world. Harry was nervous. Not just about Migel but about what would happen when everybody found out he wasn’t the perfect, straight hero they thought he was.

Even with his nerves of the day he couldn’t get his mind off of Malfoy and the look he had been giving him the night before. The shock in his eyes and then something akin to resolve. Whatever it was it unnerved Harry. “Oi! Mate, are you awake in there?” Ron bellowed, elbowing Harry hard in the ribs. Harry hissed and rubbed the spot. “You look like you had a late one.”

“Hey ‘Mione, how’re you feeling today?” Harry asked, reaching out and touching her belly for a moment as she blushed lightly, covering his hand with her own.

“I feel about ready to evict little Rose.”

Ron smirked, pulling her close to his side. “Till she’s out, why don’t we get her some Florentine’s in the meantime?”

Hermione brightened up at the mere mention of the wonderful ice cream shop. As they walked Harry did so silently slightly behind them, Hermione kept rambling on about the nursery preparations as Ron made a few interjections here-and-there. Harry’s mind kept reverting back to the look on Malfoy’s face the previous evening. His phone gave a predominate buzz and he was quick to answer it. ‘Have you ever seen Lord of the Rings? It’s bloody long.’

‘Late night?’ Was all Harry could muster to respond.

‘They insisted on watching all three movies one after the other.’

‘Were they even watching?’

‘Hardly. I have to admit they were enjoyable.’

‘What became of your precious armchair?’

‘Such a shame, that. It was truly a beautiful armchair. I put it on the lawn once they went off to bed. Honestly. I had to. The vile things that occurred in it, it needed some air afterwards.’

Harry found himself grinning. So _that_ was why Malfoy was shirtless on his street at three in the morning? Harry was too engrossed in his response to hear his friends calling him and Ron’s attempt at snatching him out of the way. It was too late. Harry smashed full frontally into oncoming traffic just as they were about to enter Florentine’s. It was such a hard impact that Harry fell backwards landing promptly on the ground just as the person he had hit did. His phone dropped from his hand and hit the ground. He thanked his stars for the protective casing on it. “Merlin, Malfoy, watch where you’re going, would you?” Ron snapped as he reached down to yank Harry off the ground.

Harry was dazed as he looked across at Draco who was still sprawled on his bottom. “Dumb luck,” Harry muttered to himself. Draco gave Harry that same odd, calculating look he had the evening before. Harry started brushing off his robes and went to look for his phone but it was in somebody else’s hands already. Harry glared at Blaise Zabini and stilled as he turned to his side to see the violet haired female he had in the Snapchat before. Seeing her in person he turned an odd shade of red.

Blaise’s eyes were wide looking down at the screen. Harry scrambled to yank the phone from his grasp and held it to his chest like his life depended on it. Draco finally brought himself up from the ground and regained his composure. “Potter, do us all a favour and kindly learn how to walk.”

“ _That’s_ Harry Potter?” The girl asked in a whisper. She leapt from Blaise’s side and extended her hand to Harry, oddly beaming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Hermione, Ron and Harry all looked shocked between the two former Slytherin’s. Draco was glaring coolly at his old classmates. “Not from me you didn’t,” he muttered.

“The Boy Who Lived! Blaise has told me all the stories! My name is Sadie!”

Harry shook her hand but couldn’t keep his eyes from darting between Blaise’s ghost like expression and Draco’s cold sneer. But there was something in his eyes still, as though he was looking at Harry through different lenses. “Come on Sadie, precious Potty and his friends have better things to do than spend time talking to us.” Malfoy led the reluctant, vibrant girl away. Blaise lingered momentarily, eyes still resting on Harry.

“It was you, Potter?”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want Malfoy to find out like that. “Don’t tell him,” was all Harry could croak out.

Blaise was taken aback at the response and shook his head. “I have to. He’s bloody obsessed with waiting for another message from _you_. Merlin Potter, I thought whoever sent it was trying to be funny but knowing it came from you…what the hell were you trying to play at?”

“I-I thought…I dunno I…” Harry stumbled with his words. Truthfully, he thought it would be hilarious just to watch Malfoy struggle with the muggle contraption. Obviously he had thorough misconceptions about the blond and now it did just seem like a failed attempt at a cruel joke.

“Save it,” Blaise snapped as he followed the distant call of his name. As Harry turned to watch him leave he found Draco’s eyes resting on him again and then with a slight nod his colleague continued on.

“Fuck,” Harry swore as they entered Florentine’s. “Now Malfoy is going to know it’s me.”

“Serves you right. It wasn’t a nice thing to do in the first place,” Hermione chided.

Ron sighed, patting Harry on the back. “Don’t think about it, mate, it just means the joke’s over. You got bigger things to worry about today. Like Migel,” Ron reminded him.

Harry sighed. He knew he should be concentrating on Migel but he couldn’t.

The hours fell by and Harry remained mostly silent. Hermione and Ron kept sharing concerned glances and attempted to cheer him up, especially before they met up with Migel. “The Leaky Cauldron? What an odd name for a…what is this place? A pub? A restaurant? A…hostel of sorts?”

“Out of those, let’s say a hostel,” Hermione answered for him. Migel looked in awe as he stared around at the sights which wasn’t much for a dingy bar but here and there were Daily Prophets strewn across the table which bewitched him the most. “You don’t get the Prophet, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s at work when I want to read that garbage,” he muttered.

Hermione frowned. “These newspapers are fantastic. Can I get one, Harry? Please can you buy me one!” Migel begged and grabbed onto Harry’s hand, wrapping it tightly in his own.

“I’m sure we’ll find one for sale on the street somewhere. C’mon, let’s go,” Harry mumbled, leading the way through the Leaky Cauldron toward the visitor’s entrance to Diagon Alley with Migel’s hand still clasped in his own.

It wasn’t a horrible day in any means of the words. Ron and Hermione did most of the showcasing and talking for Harry as they toured Migel around to each and every shop. They even went to the edge of Knockturn Alley. They were standing outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies, Migel enthralled with the idea of the game as Ron explained it to him, when they were first approached.

“Harry Potter!” “Is that…no, it can’t be!” “But it is! Look!” “His scar and everything!” “Harry Potter is with…a guy?!” “Harry Potter gay!”

When the first person, an adolescent girl, had pointed him out it started a domino effect. Harry turned and glared at their growing audience. He truly wasn’t in the mood today. “Harry, what’s going on?” Migel asked lowly.

“Oi! Leave him alone, would you?” Ron yelled at the crowd. There were flashed of light. Harry groaned as Migel sent him a horrified and puzzled expression.

“Fuck this. Ron, do you mind if I get us out of here? I’m not in the bloody mood today.”

“Sure, mate-OI!” Ron shoved down a camera just as a flash went off. Questions were flying out of nowhere as the crowd grew.

Hermione looked empathetically at her friend and his boyfriend. “Go on, Harry, we’ll deal with them.”

“Thanks a million, guys. Migel, are you ready?” Harry sighed as his boyfriend mutely nodded. He Side Along apparated them both home.

As soon as they landed in Harry’s living room, Harry fell back onto his couch, exhausted as his head swam. “There was probably a better way to come out than that.”

Migel sat down beside him. “How come they all knew your name, Harry? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Harry sighed. “It’s not that it’s just…well, there’s a few things. But they’re really not important. There’s things that happened in our world that I’d just like to forget, you know? But nobody else seems to want to forget anytime soon.”

“Like what? Harry, you can tell me, you have to tell me. This is part of our problem. You keep shutting me out. How do you expect me to want to be with you when I don’t even really know who you are?” Migel whispered, taking Harry’s hand into his own.

Harry slowly withdrew it, grumbling as he stood. “Do you really want to know about it? About everything?”

“Yes. I really do, Harry. Nothing you could tell me could make me love you any less,” Migel promised.

“We’ll see about that,” Harry mumbled.

* * *

Draco ran his fingers over the smooth screen of the phone multiple times. He was sitting in his study, his legs pulled up underneath him as he sat on the couch. Blaise was doing research for a new species of plant he and Neville received in the nursery, Sadie was taking a nap in Blaise’s room. “Just do it,” Blaise groaned.

“Hmm?” Draco asked dazedly, his eyes still burning into the phone.

“Just message him already. You’re killing me, Malfoy.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

Blaise shrugged, leafing through a few pages of his large herbology encyclopedia. “For starters how about ‘You’re a dick, Potter’?”

Draco sighed heavily. “But what about…” he trailed off and bit his lower lip. He didn’t want to betray Potter, not that he owed him anything. ‘ _But what about what I saw last night? The fact that Potter is_ gay.’

“What about nothing. He sent you that phone to be an arsehole. There’s nothing to think about,” Blaise retorted.

‘ _But there is something to think about. Potter. He wasn’t being a dick when he brought me coffee. He’s always been polite to me at work. Even on the phone he hasn’t done anything cruel besides gifting it which was a failed prank at best. And now to find out he’s gay? I could see he was terrified last night, terrified of me knowing. But I would never tell anybody a secret that wasn’t mine. Especially something like that.’_

“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” Draco stood at long last.

“If you’re not done brooding by the time you get back I’m going to send that text for you,” Blaise called after him.

As Draco left his house his head was muddled with too many thoughts but upon seeing his armchair bathing in the summer sun on his front lawn the corner of his lips twitched into a small smile. He took out his phone and took the picture. ‘See Harry, I told you it needed some air.’

“There Potter, the quaffle is in your field now.


	4. Chapter Four

“Potter! POTTER!”

Harry woke with a start. He had fallen asleep on his couch in his clothes from yesterday. Migel had left for work in the early hours of the morning. “Oh gods,” Harry groaned and his stomach lurched as the familiarity of the voice came to him.

“ _Scourgify_ ,” Harry had withdrawn his wand from his trousers and pointed it at himself, hoping to generally mask the smell of his sweat from sleep. He patted down his unruly hair, counted to ten and went to open the door.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked guardedly. Perhaps he wanted to hex him for sending him the phone. Or maybe tease him about Migel. Harry had no idea but he knew it couldn’t be a good thing that he was there.

“It was not me Harry, I swear it. I would never betray somebody’s secret like that.”

Harry blinked a few times. “What the devil are you talking about, Malfoy?”

Draco shifted uncomfortably on his feet, he appeared agitated. He held up a hand revealing a cup of coffee with a familiar label on it. Harry’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t go into the coffee shop downstairs, did you?”

"I wanted to repay you,” Draco said as he held out the coffee through the barely ajar door.

Harry considered it for a moment before finally allowing Draco in, stepping back as he did towards his bedroom. “I need to get changed. You can make yourself comfortable.”

‘ _Bloody Malfoy. What is he doing here, anyway? Migel definitely saw him, too, what’s he going to think about this?’_

When Harry returned Draco had barely moved from the doorway as he looked around the small flat. He extended the coffee again and Harry took it suspiciously. “What were you talking about; what hadn’t you done?”

Draco retrieved from underneath his elbow that mornings Daily Prophet. “The Boy Who Lived To Be Gay. Tch. You’d think they could come up with clever headlines,” Harry muttered, not paying the paper any more mind than that.

“Like I said before I would not betray a secret like that.”

“I took Migel to Diagon Alley yesterday,” Harry sighed. “We were bombarded, which I knew was going to happen but I took _your_ advice on letting him in. I knew I should never take the advice of a Malfoy,” Harry mumbled.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “What I said still stands to be good advice, Potter. If there’s a chance that he loves you and for you to be happy then by all means take the necessary risks. What does it matter now that everybody knows? Is it really such a big deal?”

Harry eyed him carefully. He didn’t seem to care as much as he thought he would. “Being gay isn’t a big deal, no. Being the Boy Who Lived and gay is a huge deal. They won’t leave me bloody well alone for weeks, I can just see it now. They’ll parade around the Ministry, dozens of reporters, screaming at me every second they get and when I don’t give them anything they will write garbage instead.”

“Everybody knows the Daily Prophet is just a tabloid, is that really what you care about? Or maybe it’s about having a _muggle_ for a boyfriend?” Draco countered coolly.

Harry was quick to respond, he withdrew his wand and pointed it at Draco’s chest. The blond peered down at it, raising his eyebrow before looking back up at Harry exasperatedly. “I knew it. I knew you never changed.”

Draco pushed Harry’s wand off his chest with his free hand and finally walked into the apartment and over to the couch still surveying his surroundings carefully. “I practically have a muggle living with me the way Sadie comes around. I have nothing against muggle’s. I am merely stating that maybe you should reconsider what has gotten you so wound up about people finding out about your orientation?”

Harry turned red. He didn’t like the way reason sounded coming from Malfoy. He huffed and sat down on the opposite arm of the couch. “What are you doing here Malfoy?”

“Like I said, returning the favour and ensuring that you knew I had no malicious intent as per the release of such sensitive information.”

“I thought you’d wanna kill me after yesterday,” Harry mumbled.

“I considered it. Blaise still wants to and I just might let him. Why did you not respond to me last night?” Draco asked softly. He had been slightly offended, his phone in hand all night, when no response was given.

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Respond to you…you messaged me?” he asked in disbelief. Draco merely inclined his head. “ _Accio phone_ ,” Harry called. A few moments went by before it came flying out of his bedroom and landed in his waiting hand. He turned it on. “I had it off all last night. Migel and I…” Harry stopped himself as he read the Snapchat. His mouth curled up into a smile.

Draco was watching him from the corner of his eye. His breath caught when he saw that smile creep up on his lips. “They were being pretty inconsiderate in regards to the armchair,” Harry muttered.

Draco found himself grinning at the response. “How about in regards to the sanctuary of my home? The sanctity of my vision?” Draco stressed playfully.

Harry laughed. “Right after ‘Mione and Ron got married they were like that everywhere we went.”

“Harry, _please_ refrain from putting images in my head of the Weasel and Granger,” Draco shivered.

“It’s Weasley now, not Granger,’’ Harry corrected.

“She will always be Granger to me.”

Harry cocked his head, “Really? I thought she would always be mudblood to you?”

Draco sighed. “Are we going to keep coming back to that?”

“Sorry it’s just hard to believe, s’all. You used to be a complete ass,” Harry muttered.

“And you used to be an annoying ponce which just proved to be true,” Draco lightly snapped back.

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘ _As if Malfoy came all the way here just to ensure that I knew he hadn’t gone blabbing about what he had seen the other night. As if he brought me coffee._ ’ Harry shook his head, he was truly astounded.

“Have you, Harry?”

“Hmm? Have I what?”

Draco dramatically sighed. “Have you seen Lord of the Rings? You never answered me.”

“Oh.” Harry was surprised. Was Malfoy actually attempting conversation now? Not about work, not about what had happened yesterday or Friday or about how Harry had sent him the phone but actual conversation? “I’ve seen the first one…” Harry said slowly.

Draco suddenly beamed at his response. “Just the first one? And here I thought you were raised by muggle’s, Harry.”

Harry flushed and shrugged. “I’ve been sort of busy since I got out of school, Malfoy-“

“It’s Draco.”

Harry looked over at him and turned a light shade of pink. He felt suddenly nervous and he couldn’t place why. Malfoy, or Draco rather, seemed so calm and collected over on his side of the sofa, slowly sipping his coffee as he watched Harry under piercing, inquiring grey eyes.

“Er, right,” Harry nodded, “Draco.”

* * *

Harry heard the familiar sound of Migel’s keys drop onto his living room table. He sighed but didn’t make a move to go and greet him. Draco had left a little over an hour ago, thankfully skirting his boyfriend. Migel made his way into the small, cozy study and collapsed on the armchair across from Harry.

“He was here,” Migel stated.

“Draco? Yeah, he was,” Harry said shortly. He could feel the ripple of jealousy thicken in the air without even looking up at Migel.

“Why?”

Harry looked up over his scrapbook, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t particularly see how that’s any of your business,” he said lowly before returning back to his book.

Migel had a sharp, unsteady intake of breath as his hands gripped the sides of his chair. “It _is_ my business when a random, gorgeous man comes to spend hours with _my_ boyfriend.”

“You’re the one who insists he’s gorgeous, are you sure it’s not me who should be jealous?” Harry drawled. He really didn’t have the energy to care at the moment, his mind was too wrapped in memories that his eyes and fingers ran over.

“I’m trying really hard here Harry, not to be angry with you,” he seethed.

Harry sighed, closing his book and putting it on his lap. “Draco was just over ensuring that I didn’t blame him for the papers today. Then we got to talking about work so he ended up staying awhile, that’s all. Sorry, but I’ve had a bit of a day.”

“ _You’ve_ had a bit of a day? Are you kidding me? I just find out my boyfriend is…is…” Migel stammered at a loss for words to explain everything he just learned about Harry the night before.

“Is what?” Harry asked sharply. He stood up abruptly and began pacing the room. Even Migel’s presence was putting him on edge. “C’mon, tell me, what am I?”

Migel looked ashamedly down at his hands on the sides of the chair. “You know what I mean,” he muttered. “It’s a lot to take in. What’s been so difficult for you?”

Harry laughed coldly. “I don’t know, coming out to everybody I’ve ever known as gay for the first time. Having it be made a public affair and splashed right across the front page of every bloody wizarding newspaper. Having a work colleague and old school mate come over to return a favour and apologize for the paper this morning and my boyfriend not being home five minutes and he’s already jumping down my throat accusing me of cheating on him!”

Migel took a steadying breath. Harry was impressed to say the least, usually at this point they’d both be shouting at each other. “Were you really on the front page?”

“Always bloody am. Take a look for yourself.” Harry picked up the book he had left on his chair and tossed it at Migel who didn’t react in time to catch it. He bent over to pick it up as Harry chuckled again to himself, still pacing and trying to keep his temper down, “You would have never made a good Seeker,” he mumbled to himself.

Migel ignored his comment and flipped through the book. It was all old newspaper clippings Harry had collected. A lot were about him, some about Hogwarts, Dumbledore, the Order, Voldemort and quite a few about the Malfoys. He finally got to the newly added one at the back and quickly skimmed it with wide eyes. “The Boy Who Lived to Be Gay? They really aren’t all that original are they?”

Harry laughed tightly. “Not at all. I’m just glad they’ve shortened the name again, I got sick of The Boy Who Lived Twice rather fast.”

Migel was frowning deeply as he went back to look through the book more thoroughly. “If he’s just a colleague now, why do you have this?”

Harry rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh as he peered over Migel’s shoulder at the article in question. It was from the events that followed the Department of Mysteries, when Lucius was arrested, the picture perfect family looking solemnly at the flashing lights, Draco looked older then than he even did now. “Migel, I seriously can’t take much more of this, it’s ridiculous.”

“I’m trying here but this Draco Malfoy guy, you two have a lot of history.”

“A lot of history of _hating_ each other. Did I ever mention his father tried to have Ginny, Ron’s sister, killed? I kept that bloody article because of Lucius, not Draco, because I was so bloody happy that bastard finally got what he deserved.” Harry finally sat back down, leaning warily back into the chair as he did and finally chancing a full look at Migel. He seemed tired, disheveled and disgruntled all at once.

Migel slowly shook his head. “After everything you’ve told me, why would you work with him? Why would you be friendly if there wasn’t-“

“Merlin’s beard, Migel! Stop it!” Harry shouted at last. His voice rang through the room leaving a deafening silence that followed. Migel looked torn between anger and embarrassment.

“Harry,” Migel said softly after a few minutes. “I came here to say that I’m okay with everything you told me. I really am. I’m okay with who you are. It’s a bit much but I can deal with it. I just may need to take this whole introduction into your world a little slower.”

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes and before he could respond his phone went off with a familiar vibrate. He was quick to pull it out and check it. It was a picture of the armchair back in its usual spot. ‘Do you think it is safe enough to sit in?’ Even in the tense situation with Migel Harry’s lips twitched up into a small smirk. Migel was gaping at him but he didn’t seem to notice.

‘I dunno. It was Blaise, after all. Are you sure you can’t just burn it?’

“Who is it?”

Harry frowned. “Hermione, Ron’s had too much Firewhiskey again,” he lied, he didn’t want Migel to jump any further down his throat to investigate.

Migel sighed and nodded, convinced. “All I want, Harry, is for us to go back to what we were doing before. Let’s go out again with the guys next week? Maybe even Ron and Hermione can come, too?”

Harry nodded briefly. “Fine. Whatever you want,” he mumbled as the response from Draco came. ‘But it’s such an exquisite chair.’ Harry smirked again, he could almost hear Draco whine through the text. A few seconds went by and there was another. ‘You have a nice flat, Potter.’

‘Haha. Don’t lie, I can tell you hated it. Probably not fancy enough for you.’

‘You got me. It was nice to talk to you today anyway.’

Harry paused. He could hear Migel moving again, probably putting his scrapbook back on its shelf as he looked at the moving pictures he had become accustomed to. ‘You too, Draco. See you at work.’

“…and then maybe the next time after that you could show me how you play that Quibble game,” Migel finished. Apparently he had been talking but Harry had tuned him out, too enraptured in Draco’s simple texts.

“Yeah. Quidditch. Sure. We can play a round at the Burrow, if you’d like.”

“Could I try?” Migel asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. “Brooms won’t respond to Muggle’s. You can score keep, though.”

“Probably for the better, I’d probably fall on my arse.”

“Most do. It’s getting late, I really have to get ready for work in the morning.”

“Can I go there sometime, too?”

“Why not,” Harry sighed, striding out from the room.

“Do you want me to stay or go?” Migel asked softly, following Harry.

“It’s really late…” Harry reiterated. Migel nodded, disappointment falling across his face.

Once Migel had gone Harry lay wide awake in bed. He wasn’t quite nervous about work, what others would say seeing him after reading the article. No, he was nervous about a certain blond coming to spend all day in his office instead.

* * *

It was half past nine. Harry thought his nerves would explode.

Himself and Malfoy had gotten on pretty well. He even didn’t seem to mind that he was gay, dating a muggle bloke. But now, for the first time ever, he was late. Harry sat leaning back in his chair and took out his phone. ‘You okay? Where are you?’

‘Coming.’ Came the quick and short reply.

Harry quickly made himself look busy, as if he had been doing some of the paperwork he knew he should have been waiting for Draco. Only a few moments later Draco burst through the door, his breath heavy. His tie was lopsided, his hair not perfectly parted as it usually was and his cheeks were flushed pink. “What happened?” Harry asked quickly.

Draco scowled. “Fucking Blaise,” he swore. “He’s been working with nocturnal plants this week and so when he got home from work he shut off all my alarms. The bastard.” Draco collapsed into his usual chair.

Harry couldn’t help but grin. Blaise really did like getting one over on Malfoy. “Let me guess, you have resorted to using your phone for alarms? One muggle gift and Draco Malfoy forgets he’s a wizard,” Harry teased.

Draco picked up the nearest thing to him, a small file folder, and tossed it in Harry’s general direction. Harry dodged it quickly, laughing mirthfully. “Using the phone is simpler,” he mumbled defensively.

“Why don’t you just put your own lock combination on it so Zabini can’t get in?” Harry suggested and with the blank look he received he realized Draco hadn’t quite figured out all there was to that phone yet. “Here, pass it,” Harry held out his hand.

Draco stood up and walked over behind Harry, giving him his phone as he did, he peered over his shoulder and watched closely. Harry felt nervous again. Draco was looming over him. Even though he was disheveled that day Harry could smell the strong scent of his perfumed shampoo wafting off of him and he noticed Draco placed his one hand on the arm of Harry’s chair. Harry watched it from the corner of his eye; the slender fingers curled around the wood, he wore a signet Malfoy ring on the index finger. Harry swallowed heavily, through the black reflection of the phone he could see some strands of Draco’s hair fall around his face and he had a sudden urge to turn around and push them back.

“Potter?” Draco breathed, “Are you going to show me or not?”

Harry snapped out of it and quickly fumbled to slide open the phone. When he was finished showing Draco how to change the lock password he was relieved and able to breathe when his colleague sat back down in his seat. “Come on then, we have lost enough time as it is. I hope that by next year my visit here will only take an hour every week instead of eight,” Draco drawled as he started out where he had left off last Monday.

It had only been a few Monday’s spending it with Draco but the sudden thought of him no longer being kept up with him in his office for hours at a time, even in strained silence, displeased Harry.

A little after lunch they were sitting in silence on their third cup of coffee. “If I see ‘I swear I saw the Dark Mark in the sky!’ statement one more time I am going to burn the rest of these witness statements,” Harry grumbled as Draco laughed lightly. Harry was always surprised when he laughed. It was low, barely audible, but such an honest laugh. His phone went off and at first he was confused. If Draco was here, who would be texting him?

Harry slowly took his phone out and his eyes went wide at the text. ‘Labour. St Mungo’s. Now please’ were the only words Hermione messaged him. Ron flew in through his office door just at the moment, pale as a ghost.

“For Salazar’s sake, Weasel! Give people a little bloody warning, would you!” Draco hissed as he had jumped from the sudden intrusion and dropped the stack of papers he had been working on.

“Hermione, she’s…” Ron went even whiter still.

Harry nodded quickly standing up and grabbing his cloak, throwing it hastily on. “In labour,” he supplied for him. “C’mon, let’s Floo home and grab her bag and I can Firecall your Mom from the hospital.” Harry began to lead Ron out of the room, the redhead shaking as he walked. Draco watched with slight amusement as he could practically see Ron fall apart at the seams.

“I guess we will have to leave this till next Monday, Potter,” Draco said as he began to pack things away.

Harry looked over his shoulder quickly and shook his head. “I know how anal you can be when you leave things unfinished. Keep going, Malfoy.”

“Without you?” Draco asked with surprise. “But, nobody is allowed to be alone with classified-“

“I trust you.”

The quick response caught Draco off guard but it was too late for him to say anything in return, Harry had already gone down the hall and was leading Ron towards the exit. Harry’s words rang in Draco’s ears and he felt a small triumph in them. “Good,” he thought smugly as he changed seats into Harry’s own and continued to work.


	5. Chapter Five

It was July 31st. It wasn’t just a day and Draco knew that. It was a Thursday. He had no need to be on the floor of Magical Law Enforcement. Absolutely no need.

Other than the fact it was July 31st.

‘ _Stop being such a Hufflepuff about all of this and just sack up and get it over with_.’ Draco took a deep breath. His strides were becoming smaller the closer he got to Harry’s familiar office. ‘ _You’re just saying Happy Birthday to a friend. That’s all. Nothing else. Maybe the present is taking it a bit far…but friends give each other birthday presents, don’t they? Is that what Harry and I are now, friends? Will he even accept this?’_

“Oi! Malfoy! You lost?”

Draco groaned at Weasely’s voice as he turned to meet him. “I came to…” Draco lost his words, suddenly embarrassed but he hid it well, pushing the package he had for Harry in his hands inside his cloak. “I had to speak with Potter about a discrepancy. Congratulations, as well.”

Ron beamed at the last part, “Congratulations from a Malfoy. Thought I’d never hear the day. Dad will have a heart attack when I tell him,” he grinned but it fell the moment Draco shot him the coldest glare he could manage. “Harry’s not here right now. There was a break in at a Quidditch supply shop, he had to be the one to volunteer for damage control, lucky bastard,” Ron rolled his eyes.

“Where?”

“Burnaburise.”

“Burnaburise? All the way in Wales?” Draco’s eyebrows knitted.

“Yeah, well, the Aurors stationed out there didn’t really have the means to contain the crime scene. It was an odd, really, they called on our department specifically since we have experience with such things,” Ron was eyeing Draco carefully now.

“With what such things?” Draco found himself becoming worried. Worried for Harry. He wasn’t sure what scared him more, the idea of him being in danger or the idea of him caring about it.

“They found the Dark Mark hovering above the shop,” Ron watched Draco’s reaction ghost over, his face gaping and then quickly snapped into a perfectly still mask. “If there is a message you would like me to pass along-“

“No,” Draco said quickly, his voice unstable. ‘ _A Dark Mark? And of course Potter had to go running to the scene of the crime, bloody hero._ ’ “I think I’ll just leave him a note.”

“Whatever, Malfoy.” Ron shrugged and left.

Draco quickly set Harry’s gift on his desk in his office before skirting out of there before anybody else recognized him.

The rest of the day no matter how much he tried to distract himself with filing, Draco simply couldn’t concentrate. He checked his phone even more regularly than usual with still no word from Harry. When he got home he went straight to cooking dinner, trying to distract himself as much as possible. He prepared spinach salad with honey roasted chicken and poured two glasses of white wine. He felt so domesticated sometimes but something about cooking and preparing meals calmed him, especially when his mind kept wandering back to Harry working on a case that involved a Dark Mark.

“I hate coming back onto day shifts in the nursery, bloody knackers me,” Blaise complained, obviously in mid conversation. Draco tensed as he heard the other voice.

“I know what you mean. Thanks again for looking after the new nocturnes, though, I mean with Luna getting so close to her due date I don’t like leaving her at night,” Neville Longbottom was clear as day.

“S’all understandable, mate. Did you hear that there’s another little Weasel brat?” Blaise sounded teasing.

“Yeah, I went to see her yesterday. It’s scary, knowing I’ll have one soon, too. I reckon Ron was terrified but he seems a right good father-“

Their voices died as they entered the kitchen, Draco was just finished dishing out his own plate of food. “Weasel a father,” he scoffed, “Who knew the horrific day would ever come.”

“Play nice, Malfoy,” Blaise warned.

“Malfoy,” Neville nodded slowly. Draco returned the greeting as he took his usual spot at the island in the kitchen with his wine to match his meal. The two weren’t on unfriendly terms by any means but just because Blaise and Neville got on so well did not make them the best of friends, either. Draco had sourly accepted that Blaise could bring him around his house sometimes, though he still felt out of place when he did.

“There should be enough for you too, Longbottom. I take it Sadie will not be here tonight?” Draco asked, he usually did make extra because that girl had an unearthly talent of showing up just as Draco finished preparing a meal. She had quite the nose for it.

Blaise frowned, shaking his head. “Has to work the night shift tonight. C’mon then, Nev, I promise his food’s not poison,” he teased, jabbing Neville in the side.

Neville laughed uncomfortably and took a seat at the small, round table beside Blaise. “Mates with a Gryffindor and dating a muggle. Such a Hufflepuff, Zabini.”

Blaise prepared Neville a plate and sat down beside him. “Shove off, Malfoy, you’re only jealous because at least one of us is getting some.”

Neville choked on his forkful of salad, Blaise smacked him on the back, smirk widening as Draco glared over at the two of them. They ate in mostly uncomfortable silence, Neville and Blaise talking about work every once and awhile. Neville overly complimented Draco for the food who coldly shrugged it off, spelling the dishes to do themselves once they finished before he poured himself another glass of wine. His thoughts drifted back to Harry as the three of them simultaneously settled down in the den, Blaise flicked on the television and tossed the remote to Neville.

“You said you were going to teach me about tennis. Right then, do your best.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You seem to be making yourself pretty comfortable in my own house, Zabini, not even asking me if-“

“Sod off, you love having me here,” Blaise cut him off with a grin. Draco sighed but didn’t protest as he settled back into his usually seat. Neville was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Blaise curled up in the infamous armchair.

Well into the evening of Neville excitedly explaining the boring rules and regulations of tennis to Blaise, Draco finally pulled out his phone. It had been too long of Harry not saying anything to him. Of course it was the bloke’s birthday so he could be out celebrating with friends and all but still, the Dark Mark lingered in his head. ‘ _Potter better not have gone off and done anything heroic_.’ He took a quick picture without being seen of Neville animatedly talking, leaning over his knees on the couch with his hands waving this way and that.

‘Look. Now I have a Longbottom in my house. Save me.’ Draco sent the Snapchat out, biting his lower lip as he did so.

When ten minutes went by and he still didn’t receive a response he knew something had to have been wrong. “Malfoy,” Blaise called over the noise of the television. Draco snapped his attention away from his phone and over to Blaise. “Sadie sent me something but I think it’s for you.”

Draco raised his eyebrow at that and caught the incoming phone Blaise tossed across the living room. ‘Look who I found’ was all the message read but it was followed by a picture that was unmistakeably Potter, sitting alone at the corner of the bar where Sadie worked. ‘ _Harry’s spending his birthday alone? In a muggle bar?_ ’ The urge to go to him was stronger than his reason and he immediately stood, throwing back the rest of his wine as he did.

“I’ll be off, then,” he said quickly.

Blaise smirked knowingly. “Of course you will be,” he muttered but Draco was already out of the room and out of earshot. When the front door slammed close, Neville turned inquiringly to Blaise.

“What was all that about then?”

Blaise joined Neville on the couch and showed him the picture. “Is that Harry? What’s Malfoy gone to do to him, should we go after him?”

“Mate,” Blaise clapped a hand on Neville’s back, “Did I ever tell you what Potter gave Draco for his birthday?”

Neville’s eyes went wide with shock. “Harry gave Malfoy a _birthday present_?” He tucked into the couch and listened carefully as Blaise began to tell his side of the story.

* * *

Draco didn’t know why he went but it didn’t stop him from apparating to the alley next to Sadie’s work and rushing inside. It could have been the events of earlier, the fact he knew Harry had gone running off somewhere where the Dark Mark was involved and it worried him more than he’d like to admit. Or it could he was so nervous that Harry would despise him now for over stepping his boundaries and giving him a present. Though, to be fair, Harry had done that in the first place when he started this whole cellphone business.

“I thought you’d come,” Sadie’s voice called Draco out of his reverie. He snapped his attention over to her, leaning on the edge of the bar that was tall enough to come up to the short girls’ chest.

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink at the words. “Where is he?” he called over the music. It was a live band night, as was every Thursday. There was a soft rock muggle band playing in the background, a small crowd of people danced on the cleared out dance floor and the rest of the patrons sat around the bar, drinking hopelessly or talking mildly with their friends. There was a particular group of smashed younger kids making ruckus in the corner of the bar at a booth, hollering at every girl whom passed.

Sadie bit back her knowing smile and nodded her head to the corner of the room, tucked away in a booth all by himself. He seemed to be idly watching the band sing and play, his fingers tapping to the rhythm. Draco got a drink from Sadie first before joining him. He slid in the booth across from him and upon seeing a blur of white blond hair Harry’s face turned automatically sour. “What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?” He snarled.

Draco raised his eyebrow and took a drink from his red wine, nearly spitting it back out as he pulled a face afterwards. “This is putrid,” he commented dryly, ignoring Harry’s comment.

Harry eyed him warily, scoffed and drank half his pint. “I’m not quite in the mood to entertain Death Eaters tonight of all nights, Malfoy.” Harry regretted the words as soon as they fell out of his mouth, he clapped a hand to his lips and shook his head looking ashamed. “I’m sorry, Draco,” he apologized, sighing. “It’s been a rotten day.”

“Tell me about it,” Draco urged gently, nonplussed by his remarks.

“Why are you here?” Harry repeated, this time more softly. “How did you even find me?”

“Muggle’s in low places,” Draco drawled, nudging toward the bar where Harry turned to look.

“Oh. I thought she looked familiar,” he muttered. “That still doesn’t answer why.”

Draco sucked in what little courage he had left from rushing over to the bar. “I went to your office this morning – “ Draco was cut off by Harry’s incredulous look and he waved his hand, “Not here nor there why – and ran into the Weasel. After what he told me I was…concerned…that you would still play the bloody hero and go marching in without thinking first. I have an odd feeling I was right.”

Harry’s cheeks turned a little pink. “I’m no hero,” he muttered.

“Matter of opinion,” Draco shrugged, “You’ve got the complex of one anyway.”

“So, you heard about the incident then?”

Draco nodded. “But there’s none left, Harry. There’s no use you running off every time a Dark Mark gets thrown in the air. It was probably just some meddlesome kids. You’ve already arrested all known Death Eater’s, they’re all rotting in Azkaban.”

“Besides you,” Harry said pointedly. He quickly shook his head, “I didn’t mean to sound like that again, oh, bugger.”

Draco chuckled lowly, the same genuine laugh that startled Harry before in his office. “Calm down, Harry. I know you well enough now to know you’re too nice for your own good to mean any harm by what you say.” A small smile crept on his face. “Go on then, tell me what happened.” Draco sat back in his seat, taking another sip of his wine and scowling again as he did so.

“Kingsley Firecalled me the moment the incident happened, asking me to get out there and assist. I knew why he wanted me specifically. The Dark Mark was involved and everybody thinks I’m some kind of bloody expert on Death Eater’s now. Either way, it was a simple robbery, nothing more. The clerk of the shop was a little roughed up and obliviated but it was such a simple one he only had the last five minutes erased. Not a big deal at all. I had to stick around for damage control and all of that, it was the Dark Mark that got people riled up more than anything. They were screaming that Death Eater’s were on the loose,” Harry sighed heavily, chugging back the rest of his drink.

“Why would somebody cast a Dark Mark for a robbery?” Draco asked.

Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair, it shook down to his shoulders now. “That was my first question. There was no ulterior malicious intent other than the goods. A lot of it was the latest brooms and equipment and of course the register was emptied. I was there the better half of the day and what it came down to was the fact that we had no suspects and a panicked public. Casting the Dark Mark was simply the easiest way for the little vagrant bastards to get away. It was probably some punk teenagers who thought it up, having no idea what that bloody mark represents to a lot of us – the grief it has wrought – but knew it would distract people from successfully trailing after them.”

“How do you know it was teenagers?”

“Who else would rob brooms and gear from a Quidditch shop?” Harry chortled.

Draco raised his wine glass and his eyebrow, “Fair point. If it was merely a robbery why has it gotten you all bothered?”

Harry began to become particularly interested in the band once again as a new song started up. “Seeing it hovering there,” he said quietly, distantly, “It was like back then. I felt panicked. I felt like everybody around me was either threatened or out to kill me. It put me on edge, seeing it for the first time since-“

Draco hushed him and placed his hand over top of Harry’s across the table. He squeezed it gently. Harry’s eyes widened comically at the others touch and a faint pink rose on his cheeks, his uneasy green eyes found Draco’s steady grey ones burning into him. “That time has gone and you know it.”

Harry turned his hand over, their palms pressed together. With a vicelike grip he grasped onto Draco’s hand surprising the man across the booth. But Harry wasn’t paying attention to his surprise he was instead using his other hand to thrust Draco’s left sleeve up till it met his elbow. Draco tried to wriggle his captive arm free but Harry, though shorter, was much stronger than he. Harry’s eyes burned a hole in the Dark Mark on his pale skin. He ran his fingers across it causing Draco to shiver at the touch.

“I am not the same boy I was in school,” Draco stated defensively.

Harry’s fingers continued trailing the marked skin, he looked transfixed instead of angry and Draco would have emptied all his vaults at Gringotts just to know what was running through his head. “Are you sure?” Harry asked, barely audible over the music. Draco swallowed as Harry’s fingers traced their way down to his hand and threaded through his fingers till they met his silver Malfoy signet ring, twisting it pointedly.

Draco felt exposed. Not just because of the Dark Mark, which he always kept politely hidden, but because of the way Harry was still holding his hand and softly touching him. “I am not ashamed of being who I am. I am not ashamed of my father and his beliefs, only our actions. I can see the validity behind pureblood breeding but I think it unwise to have muggle’s and wizards segregated when we can both benefit from one another. Back then, during the war, I only did what I had to. If I had any choice in the matter I would not have participated whatsoever. But you know more than anybody that I did what I had to. You wouldn’t have defended me at my trial otherwise.”

Harry was nodding slowly, his fingers slipped from Draco’s skin and he instantly wanted them back on him but his hand didn’t move from his own. “I know. Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re so tolerant nowadays.”

“What I find difficult to believe is that you are sitting here alone on your birthday,” Draco said, taking another sip of wine with another disgruntled face. “Honestly, I asked Sadie for the most expensive cabernet she had and _this_ is what she gives me? What good is a bar without any proper selections.”

Harry was grinning now, shaking his head at Draco. “Ron’s busy with Rose, his baby, remember?”

“And Weasel is the only friend of the Golden Boy? What about Misha?”

“Migel?” Harry corrected and Draco shrugged. Harry knew that his colleague knew the name of his boyfriend but was trying to be nonchalant about it. “I really would rather not take about or go near him at the moment.”

Draco raised his brow at that overtop of his wine glass. “Oh? You two have a falling out?”

“Sort of. He’s being a right prat lately, s’all. I come out for him which was difficult enough as it is seeing as the Ministry has reporters banging down our door constantly now and all he does is get even _more_ jealous. I had to turn off my phone just to get away from his badgering,” Harry muttered.

‘ _That would explain why he never replied to me._ ’ Draco reasoned to himself. He kept trying to be casual about the fact Harry’s hand still hadn’t moved from overtop of his own. He finished off his wine, looking anywhere but at their hands on the table. “Jealous of what?”

Harry bit his lower lip and looked up slowly at Draco, his green eyes were wavering now. “Mostly jealous of you.”

Draco stilled. His heart began to thud painfully against his chest. He caught Harry’s gaze and looked pointedly at their hands still pressed together. “Is there a need to be?” He asked seriously.

Harry blushed deeply and recoiled his hand as if burned. Apparently he hadn’t even realized it was there still. “Er, well…he just doesn’t like me working so close to another fellow.”

“You work in Magical Law Enforcement. The whole bleeding floor are pretty much men and you only work with me once a week,” Draco countered. He wasn’t going to let Harry get out of this one without real answers.

“When I told him about my past you were a part of it. He didn’t seem too comfortable on hearing about it. Then a few days ago he reckoned he was privileged to go through my phone when I wasn’t around. He’s been pretty peeved ever since. Not to mention the fact he thinks you’re gay,” Harry mumbled the last part quickly and quietly.

Draco was unaffected by the words as he leaned across the table, his elbows propped up on it and his chin rested in his hands. Harry swallowed a thick lump in his throat as he looked at him. His face was hovering so close to his own, there was slight bemusement in his stormy eyes and his lips curled upward into a perfect smirk. “And what brought him to think that?” Draco drawled.

“H-he thinks that because, well, uhm…bugger,” Harry swore, taking a deep breath to stop his stammering. “Because he said no straight bloke can dress and look as good as you.”

Draco raised a perfected eyebrow and began to laugh lowly again, that same laugh that churned Harry’s stomach. “Blaise dresses rather nicely.”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged, “But he doesn’t look nearly as good.” The words were out of his mouth before he could catch them. Harry’s face was a bright red and even Draco had an odd tinge of colour on his cheeks.

“Boys!” Sadie called, approaching their table.

“Aren’t you supposed to be bartending?” Draco snapped at her, unimpressed at her poor timing.

Sadie stuck her tongue out at him, Harry was amused to see a bar strung through it. “I asked to serve your table specifically, Tiff let me have it,” she shrugged. “Will you be having another one?”

“Another glass of that vile substance your bar somehow passes for wine? No, no thank you. Never again, actually, if you may,” Draco drawled, sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed.

“He’s a right bugger sometimes ain’t he?” Sadie asked Harry who smirked up at her, nodding ever so slightly. “And for you, Harry, anything?”

Harry sat contemplatively for a second before looking at Draco, his blush finally fading. “After what I just said and the fact you pointed out it’s my birthday I think you should get me pissed, Malfoy. I only deserve it.”

Draco blinked a few times in surprise. He wasn’t expecting Harry to suggest that, especially not with him. “I-“

“He’s a lightweight,” Sadie cut him off, “It honestly won’t take him long.”

Harry grinned at Draco’s immediate blush and silent protest at the girl. “And I’m not. Bring me the strongest shots you have, anything. Please. I just need to make today go away. Make them double for me,” he winked. Sadie looked at Draco’s slightly shocked face before heading back off to the bar.

“Harry, are you sure you ought to actually-“

“Oh shove off, Malfoy, it’s just a couple of drinks. Won’t you just humour me on my birthday and stick around for a while?”

* * *

“You _didn’t_!”

Draco smirked, leaning back into his booth and drawing his leg up underneath him. “I most certainly did.”

“But Snape’s under-“

“I know! Please, don’t remind me, I’d much rather forget those visuals,” Draco grimaced and Harry barked with laughter.

Their booth was littered at this point, two hours later, with various shapes and sizes of emptied drinks. They had more than experimented with tastes, finding only one drink Draco actually decided he liked. It was a Killer Kool-Aid and he was on his third now. “Your turn,” Draco insisted, taking a long haul out of his red drink.

Harry thought, he was nearly out of appropriate stories to tell Draco about his days at Hogwarts or certain cases on the field. “I got sorted into Slytherin before Gryffindor.”

Draco’s eyes went wide and he leaned over the table. “You’re kidding.”

Harry chuckled at his reaction. “Marauder’s Honour,” he held up his two forefingers. At this point Draco had heard all about the Marauder’s and their map. “The Sorting Hat sat I’d do well in Slytherin. I begged it to put me anywhere else because a certain blond prat I knew just got sorted in there.”

“Tch, you would’ve been eaten alive down in those dungeons anyway,” Draco leaned back again. “So typically Potter, the only eleven year old to ever convince the sorting hat it’s wrong.”

The band that had been playing had taken a set break, it was much easier to talk over the lesser amounts of noise. They were finally getting back on set and Harry had enough alcohol in him to forget all reserve as his blind courage took over. The first few strums to the second set began and he held out his hand to Draco. Draco looked at it questioningly. “Dance with me?” Harry asked, the music began getting louder. People were beginning to filter the dance floor again, swaying and jumping to the pace of the music.

Draco’s eyes were unreadable but the surprise was clear in his face. “C’mon, s’my birthday after all,” Harry slurred.

“Didn’t take you for the dancing type, Potter,” Draco drawled but found that his hand, without recollection, fell into Harry’s and gripped it.

“I’m not,” Harry said oddly. “Not usually. Tonight is different. Tonight I’ve had enough to actually want to.”

“Fine, but you better not step on my bloody feet.” But Harry didn’t hear him, he was already dragging him out onto the dance floor, their fingers entwined around one another. Draco relished the feeling of having Harry’s hand pressed into his, holding onto his.

Once they were on the floor, however, the Gryffindor’s confidence seemed to seep right out of him. Thankfully this was an area Draco felt over confident in. He wasted no time, fearful that Harry would regret dragging him out here, and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling them close. Their chests were pressed against one another, Draco’s leg was in between Harry’s own and his thigh pressed up against…’ _Oh Merlin_ ,’ Harry groaned inwardly. His head was suddenly swimming and he felt he was falling down a hole, his arms flailing as he did. But then Draco began to move, his hips swayed in perfect rhythm to the music, his feet danced small nonsensical circles around the dance floor. Harry finally brought his own arms up around his neck, he peered upwards to see that familiar pointed face smiling lopsidedly down at him. Draco appeared to be so carefree in that moment. Without worry, without past or future. He was just Draco, a gorgeous blond with swimming grey eyes who was pressed chest to chest, leg to leg, with Harry.

It took Harry more than half the song to begin to move in sync with Draco but once he did he was lost in the movements of the others body. Time became lost, too. Harry was certain whenever he did tune the music in it was a new song but they were still moving with one another. Harry’s hands trailed down from Draco’s neck, ran along the spine of his back, mapping out each curve as they did. They fell to Draco’s hips and hesitated only for a moment before continuing down and ending up on his backside.

Draco’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and a small moan escaped his lips when Harry decided to gently palm the new landscape. Harry’s reaction to the sound was immediate and Draco wished he could have stopped himself. Harry sprang away from him, his face blushing madly enough for Draco to even see it through the darkness of the bar. He stared wide eyed at Draco before bee lining through the crowd. Draco swore at himself but quickly followed. He caught Harry at the bar, hastily paying Sadie for the entirety of their bill, his hands were shaking as he handed her money.

“Harry,” Draco said softly, his hand falling on his shoulder. Harry jumped nearly out of his skin, turning around with a ghostlike expression. “Calm down, it was only a dance.”

Harry was shaking his head, his words seemed to be failing him as he started out of the bar. Draco promptly followed. “Potter! Oi!” He yelled in the streets, the cold summer air chilled him almost immediately. “At least let me give you your birthday present, would you?” Draco tried, hoping it would stop him.

Thankfully it did and Harry turned on his feet to face Draco but he didn’t say anything. “Are you in a right enough state to apparate?”

Harry eyed him carefully. “I believe so. Why?”

“Good. Concentrate on the Ministry, then, the Employee’s Apparation Corridor,” Draco demanded and before Harry could protest Draco grabbed a hold of him by the hand for the third time that evening and Side-Along Apparated him with a crack.

Upon landing unsteadily, Harry felt his head swimming and stomach churn. He never did well with apparation. Draco’s hand was unmoved in his own and Harry was now all too aware of it. He cursed himself for even questioning whether or not to remove it but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He let Draco lead him through the familiar, although darkened, corridors up to the elevators.

They were silent the entire way, Draco leading him through the hallways by hand until they reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were always night patrol Auror’s at the ready in the office and upon entering Draco dropped their hands and Harry instantly wished to grab it back.

“Mr Potter, sir?” Auror Cowper asked through the dimness of the office. At the sound of the name the other Auror on duty stood up straight from his desk, closing his books.

“Sir!” He saluted Harry. The night Auror’s very rarely came into contact with the Head Auror.

Harry rolled his eyes at them. “We’re uh…I don’t even know what we’re doing. What is it we’re doing, Draco?”

The two Auror’s smelt the liquor on their boss and looked confusedly between the two. “Your office. Present,” Draco explained shortly.

“Er, right. Just need to get something from my office is all. Good job, Aurors,” Harry nodded his head seriously to the two of the men, probably five years his senior although he out ranked them. They seemed stupidly pleased with the compliment causing Draco to roll his eyes exasperatedly and continue to Harry’s office.

Once in there Harry was quick to shut his door. “What is the meaning of this, Malfoy?”

“Like I said. I want to give you your present before your birthday is over.” Draco moved around to Harry’s desk and picked up the perfectly parcel wrapped package.

Harry looked with surprise between Draco and the gift before slowly taking it. “You seriously got me something?”

“Just returning the favour,” Draco shrugged trying to act nonplussed but his cheeks were turning a different shade already.

Harry sucked in a breath and began to unwrap it. When he finally did he noticed one more layer to wrapping, it was the infamous bubble wrap. He barked out a laugh. “Bubble wrap?”

“Everybody loves it. They must, it’s brilliant,” Draco mumbled. Harry tossed the bubble wrap at Draco who quickly caught it, reflexively popping a few as he did.

“You can have it,” Harry grinned at Draco who actually seemed pleased to shove the bubble wrap into his trousers pocket. He looked down at the present. It was a box of some sort, slightly heavy but not too much. It was too dark in the office to clearly tell what it was. He had no idea what he could be expecting from Draco Malfoy as a birthday gift. “ _Lumos,”_ Harry said at long last and the lamp in his office flickered on. Draco was slightly taken aback at the wandless magic but said nothing of it as Harry’s eyes widened at the gift. “It’s…”

“The Lord of the Rings trilogy, yes. You said you had never seen it.”

Draco was suddenly nervous again. Did he hate it? Was it a horrible gift to give? He had been over such torment picking it out and wrapping it. “It’s the first muggle gift I’ve received in…I don’t know how many ages. And I can be honest when I say it’s the first decent muggle gift I’ve ever gotten,” he muttered honestly, thinking idly back to the horrible excuse for gifts the Dursley’s would give him. It was the first gift that wasn’t a book on magic, or a dark detector or something job related he had received in a good while. It was a gift he didn’t have to think too much about to enjoy. It was a gift he could lay back and relax to enjoy it. One he could think about Draco doing the same thing as he did.

Harry peered across the room at Draco who was shifting from foot to foot, a few strands of blond hair fell in front of his eyes. He looked relaxed, at ease as he watched Harry, carefully calculating his every move. Harry wasn’t sure what urged him to do it, the gift, the dance, the distant feeling of Draco’s backside in his hands or their chests pressed against one another, or perhaps just the taste of alcohol still strong on his breath. He closed the distance between them, quickly and resolutely.

Draco gasped at the sudden invasion but quickly relaxed into Harry, kissing him back. Harry pushed his body up against Draco’s so hard the blond nearly lost his balance, he walked backward into the wall of the office but Harry seemed content enough to continue kissing him pressed up against it. Harry deepened the simple pressing together of lips by parting his own, inviting Draco in. Draco didn’t need much more of an invitation than that as his tongue pushed forward past Harry’s teeth. Harry kissed Draco back hungrily, his hands were pressed on either side of his hips against the wall. Draco’s own hands ran up the side of Harry’s body, admiring the toned muscles, before they found refuge in his long, unruly hair. Draco twisted his digits around the strands and pulled gently.

Harry’s body pressed up against Draco even harder, his legs straddled him and he ground up against him. Another small moan escaped Draco’s mouth but this time Harry didn’t run from the noise.


	6. Chapter Six

Two loud bangs woke Draco with a start.

He jumped up in his bed, gasping as he did so and rubbing his head. His stomach churned, his vision was blurred. “Bloody hell!” He swore. “What the devil do you want, Zabini?!”

Blaise kicked open his bedroom door. Draco groaned and threw his bed sheets over his head. “You’re going to be late for work,” he announced, marching over to Draco’s bed and heaving the sheets down. Draco squinted at the light flooding his eyes. “You look knackered, mate.”

“I’m not going to work today,” Draco muttered, attempting to yank the sheet back up over his head but Blaise held it firmly down, eyes wide with surprise.

“Not going? I know you had an eventful evening with Potter and got smashed but you can’t-“

“I can and I will,” Draco huffed. “And how do you know I was out with Potter all last night anyway? He could have been gone by the time I got over to the bar.”

Blaise chuckled. “Oh? Gone you say? So this, this right here, this isn’t the two of you?” He was holding out his phone to Draco.

Draco was quick to sit up in his bed now, rubbing his eyes awake and looking at the picture in question. It was a picture of the two of them dancing, looking up at one another, bodies pressed together, amongst a crowd of muggles. “Bloody Sadie, I swear I’ll kill her,” Draco groaned.

“You most certainly will not. And you most certainly will not be missing work because I know I’ll just hear your regrets about it later. Here. Pepper-Up potion. Now up we go!” Blaise forcibly began removing him from the bed.

“Bugger,” Draco swore and staggered to his feet.

* * *

“Ron! Ron, please, you can’t go on patrol today-“

“But it’s Friday. I always do patrols on Friday’s, plus it’s a beautiful-“

“You _can’t_ and that’s an order, Weasley,” Harry snapped. He looked frantic, his eyes had heavy bags under them and he was more a mess than usual.

Ron blinked a few times. Harry very rarely gave him any orders at all. “Er. What shall I do then? I can’t exactly maintain the Firecalls, you know I’m rubbish at it.”

“Office, now,” Harry demanded. He hadn’t been at work twenty minutes and he was already a mess. He was surprised he had even made it in that day.

“You don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright, mate? I haven’t seen you since you left yesterday.”

Harry fell down on his chair. He looked up hopelessly at his best friend. “I kissed Draco.”

Ron stilled. “Come again?” He asked softly.

Harry groaned. “Bloody hell, Ron, I snogged Draco fucking Malfoy.”

“Okay. No patrol today, that’s for sure,” Ron muttered to himself wide-eyed as he too collapsed in the chair opposite of Harry’s. He rubbed his temple. “Alright, with as little of details as possible, how the bloody hell did that happen?”

“I don’t even know. I got home from work and Migel was all over me, accusing me of this and that as he has been since he saw mine and Draco’s messages back and forth and then I left in a rage and started walking. I stopped eventually at a bar and it just happened to be the bar Zabini’s muggle girlfriend works at and she ratted on me so Draco was over there in no time. Drinks led to dancing which led to gift giving which left to kissing. It’s all sort of jumbled in my head but…there was a lot of bloody kissing.”

Ron shook his head, his hands up in protest. “What about Migel?”

Harry’s face turned immediately sour. “He’s being a tit. I wasn’t thinking, that I can admit, but he’s still an arse.”

“What bloody possessed you to snog Malfoy in the first place?”

Harry shrugged, blushing. “We get on when it’s just the two of us.”

“Just because you get on doesn’t mean you need to snog him in the middle of a muggle bar!” Ron snapped.

“Er, well…technically we snogged here,” Harry whispered.

Ron’s face blanched and he suddenly looked horrified. “In here? In your office? Blimey, Harry! On this chair?!”

Harry quickly shook his head. “Er, might not want to touch the door on the way out though-“

“Merlin, Harry!” Ron shouted, shivering involuntarily. “Was that it? Did you just kiss?”

“Pretty much. And some rutting-“

“No! Enough!” Ron covered his ears quickly. “That’s enough of that, thank you very much.”

Harry nodded, cheeks flaming red. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

Ron sighed, shoving the shattering image of Draco Malfoy snogging his best friend in the very room they were in far from his head. “I think what you’re going to do depends on, y’know, what you’d _rather_ do.”

Harry looked at Ron hopelessly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, when you’re done work, would you rather be at home making it up with Migel or snogging Malfoy?” Ron shuddered at his own words.

Dropping his head exaggeratingly on the table Harry groaned. “Bloody hell, I’m screwed.” 

* * *

They were at a shouting stand still again.

Harry’s head hurt. Between his foggy memory of snogging Draco hastily up against his office door and Migel haughtily yelling in his ear he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. After their feverish kiss Harry had pulled away for breath, realized what he had done, and ran faster than he had in his life without looking back. He had no idea what sober Malfoy thought of their encounter.

“-You think just because you went to that good forsaken bar I wouldn’t find out?!” Migel’s voice was almost shrill, Harry winced at the sound.

He was seated at his kitchen table Sunday evening, drinking some of Odgen’s finest. “It was one bloody dance,” he ground out.

Migel huffed, his hands on his hips. “Exactly, a _dance_. Considering how you feel about dancing you might as well have slept with him.”

“Merlin, Migel, could you calm down for a minute? It was my birthday, he was being nice. For once,” Harry muttered. He knew himself it was more than that but he hadn’t the time to work it out yet. Ron’s words kept running through his head. What did he want more? To be snogging Malfoy or continue working through the rifts of his current relationship? He hadn’t any idea what Malfoy’s stance was on what had happened in the first place. Was he just trying to be friendly by joining him on his birthday? By giving him the gift as an odd sort of reciprocation?

“I’d like you to cease contact with him. Other than work. Take him out of your phone,” Migel demanded now. Harry groaned. His jealousy had never been this bad and he reckoned it was the light-hearted shared messages he had read between the two of them. Harry was thankful he hadn’t found the saved picture of Draco with bubble wrap, smiling unabashedly at the camera.

Harry shook his head, scowling at his partner. “No. Enough of this, Migel. You have no right to control who I do and don’t see or message. You are driving me mental! I’ve had enough controlling people in my life! I need to go somewhere,” Harry said resolutely. “I need to go think.”

“Harry, it’s late,” Migel’s voice had dropped significantly. Whenever Harry threatened to push away from the situation, Migel folded in on himself.

“I don’t care, I need to go. Stay here tonight. Lock up when you leave,” Harry said shortly. He needed to desperately distance himself before his emotions truly got the better of him and he let slip everything that happened that night.

“But, Harry! Can we at least talk about-“ Harry didn’t hear the rest of it. He had disappeared as quickly as he could into his room with the Floo. He threw the powder in, muttering Ron and Hermione’s residence.

He appeared and was almost immediately greeted by Ron who currently had a small, contently sleeping baby Rose wrapped close to the front of his body, her head laid on his chest. Harry still had to get used to seeing him as a father figure. “Harry, what’s wrong?” Ron asked immediately, he could see the strain written across Harry’s face.

“Migel’s being a right sodding arse, that’s what,” Harry gloomily muttered. Sighing and feeling almost automatic relief at being in the cozy, more organized replica of the Burrow. “ ‘Ello, Rose,” he bent over the small child and kissed the top of her resting head gently.

“Does he know, then?”

Harry shrugged. “David, his friend, he saw us dancing but that’s about it.”

“Still haven’t told him?”

“I’ve barely gotten a word in. Don’t even know if it’s worth telling him,” Harry muttered. Ron beckoned him in through the drawing room to the kitchen where he ushered Harry to sit at the table.

“I think you’re gonna need ‘Mione for this one, mate.”

“Need me for what?” Hermione appeared up from the basement stairs, a basket of laundry in her arms.

“Look at you two, all domesticated and I can’t even handle having a boyfriend,” Harry mumbled, his head on his hands on the table.

“I’ll put on a pot of tea and go lie Rose down.”

“She asleep?” Hermione asked with surprise.

Ron grinned. “I told you Mom was right, these baby wrapping things work every time.”

Once Ron was off upstairs to put Rose down in her crib, the kettle boiling, Hermione turned to Harry seriously. “Tell me everything.”

Harry sighed and began. He started with when he got called away for work and finished with him leaving his flat not long before. Hermione listened quietly, Ron had rejoined them by the end of it placing three cups of tea down on the table. “I told you what’s more important to you,” Ron repeated.

“You’re being awfully understanding about this,” Harry mumbled. He thought his friends would be freaking out, considering it was Malfoy and all.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance, their hands were clasped together on the table top. “We just want you to be happy. And you know where Ron and I stand on your relationship with Migel. I feel like it has been heading this way for a long time. Regardless if you end up with Malfoy, I don’t think continuing on with him is a great idea,” Hermione explained softly.

Harry nodded. “It’s been over a year, though. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time.”

“But you haven’t, not really. Every relationship we have, whether it lasts or not, teaches us something vital about ourselves. Migel was your first, wasn’t he? He was your confirmation and confidence when it came to…” Hermione trailed off, her cheeks blushing.

“To being gay,” Harry said flatly.

“Is that what you think you want? To leave him?” Ron asked.

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “When he’s not a jealous prick we have fun together. I like his friends, too. And it feels nice to come home to him sometimes.”

“And what about Malfoy? What do you feel about him?”

Harry immediately felt the blood rush to his cheeks, even the mention of his name had his pulse quickening, his thoughts speeding. A small smile crept up on the corner of his lips. “It was real nice being with him, just the two of us. Talking, texting, he’s a whole other person from the Malfoy I thought I knew.”

“And the kissing?” Hermione urged softly, Ron sent her a horrified look.

“That’s not something I want to hear about, mate! You can keep those bits to yourself!”

Harry blushed a deeper red, biting his lip. “It was pretty fucking great.” Hermione smiled as Ron shook the image and words from his head. “But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think we could ever make it anywhere together. Definitely not for as long as Migel and I have. There’s too much between us not to mention our friends and I don’t even know if he’s bloody gay or even interested.”

“Take it one step at a time, Harry,” Hermione said softly, she always sounded so reassuring and calm. “I think all you need is some time to sort it all out. Firstly look at your relationship with Migel and whether it’s worth fighting for. With Malfoy, well, that all depends on what he wants, too.”

“And what if Draco does want something more? What if he _did_ like the kiss? Whatif I can’t make the decision and-“

“Slow down, mate.”

Hermione nodded. “Try not to worry about it. If it comes down to that, I think you’ll know what decision to make.”

Harry smiled wanly at his best friends. He didn’t know where he’d be without them. They kept him so grounded, especially since the aftermath of the war, coming out and his unsteady relationship with Migel. Even when they were new parents themselves concerned mostly with Rose, they always made time for him. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

“Stay as long as you need, mate. I mean, that’s alright?” Ron said a little too quickly and looked over at Hermione for permission. Harry laughed at the odd look she shot Ron before nodding.

“I owe you both big time. Maybe a night out by yourselves and I’ll look after Rose. Maybe Teddy would like to come over for a playdate and I could watch them both for the day,” Harry ventured on.

“You’re brave mate, don’t mind if we actually take you up on that I think ‘Mione here is going stir crazy.”

“I am not!” Hermione quickly protested.

“You’ve knit me four scarves and it isn’t even close to winter yet!”

Harry laughed between his friends. An hour later, Ron and Hermione were climbing into bed together, Rose still peacefully asleep. “Are you sure you would be okay if Harry started seeing Malfoy?” Hermione asked carefully.

Ron shrugged. “I was being honest what I said in the kitchen, ‘Mione. He ain’t that horrible of a person anymore and he came to the office on Thursday and I could swear he was bringing a gift to Harry. The Malfoy we knew from school would never dare do such a thing.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow at that. “He brought Harry a gift? Hmm…” she trailed off thoughtfully. “What do you think he’s going to do, then?”

“I think we both know exactly what he is going to do. He’s been bloody obsessed with Malfoy since First Year, especially after Sixth Year.”

“And Malfoy?”

Ron snorted. “He’s worse. Been running bleeding circles around Harry for his attention for even longer.”

“Well, let’s hope that he gets it sorted sooner rather than later.”

“Agreed. Goodnight, love.”

Hermione smiled in the darkness, curling up beside her husband and kissing him chastely on the cheek. “Goodnight, Ronald.”

* * *

‘ _It’s just Malfoy. Just Draco. He’s just coming in to do what he does every Monday. Paperwork. Cataloging and organizing files. It’s his job. He’s coming to do his job. Nothing else.’_

Harry was rapping his hand on the edge of his desk, he had come in extra early as he had done for the past little while since he was forcibly outed. It made it easier to avoid reporters or the whispering eyes. The soft knock on the door nearly jarred him out of his skin. Harry looked up with slight disappointment to see Ron leaning in the doorway, smirking at him with arms crossed.

“You look like you did just before you fought that Hungarian Horntail.”

“Might as well be,” Harry commented dryly. “What do you need?”

“Just letting you know I’m heading out for patrol, I got Knockturn Alley today,” Ron frowned. Nobody liked patrol in Knockturn Alley. Some days it could be overwhelming.

“Wotcher, Harry. Weasley,” a voice called from behind Ron.

Harry looked up, his eyes wide at Draco who looked almost statuesque in the door. He wore his same Ministry robes as usual, customized to be lined in silver which made his caused his grey eyes to be vibrant. His hair was slicked back ever so slightly, two strands fell on either side of his forehead. He looked even better without his mask, sporting a small, ever so slight, smile directed straight at Harry. Harry felt his stomach flop around, his heart hammered and he couldn’t help remember having Draco pressed up against the very door he was passing through on Thursday night. His lips hungrily claiming Draco’s own; wet, ready and responsive.

“Uh…”Harry had really meant to say hello but the words died in his throat. The sound of his pulse was in his ears, he involuntarily licked his lips and he could swear he could still _taste_ Draco.

“Right, I’ll leave you two at it. Pack in, Harry,” Ron called loudly enough to shake Harry from his stupor.

Harry’s cheeks burned and he concentrated on the front drawer of his desk, opening it ever so slightly and pretending to be busy moving a few things around inside of it. The small clicking noise of his door closing shut made his breath catch in his throat. He and Draco were alone again, in his office. “Harry? We can do this another day, you look a little put off,” Draco commented as he made his way to the chair opposite of Harry.

Well aware of how much the tradition of Monday’s meant to Draco, Harry took it as a slight compliment that he would post-phone it for him. “No, er, I’m fine. Just tired, s’all, sleeping at Ron and ‘Mione’s is always a little uneasy. Rose wakes a lot at night,” Harry half-lied. She did wake often but Harry easily slept through most of it.

Draco raised his eyebrow. “Oh?” The bit of information that Harry had spent the evening at his friends was enlightening to Draco. “Shall we then?”

“Yes, please. Let’s,” Harry nodded quickly, avoiding any kind of eye contact with Draco even though he could feel his eyes burning into him. He welcomed the work and for once contributed the same, if not more, than Draco did to the paper work.

They worked in complete silence for hours on end. Draco would steal calculating glances and Harry tried to pretend he wasn’t there at all besides the odd necessary question. It was some time after they reconvened from lunch that Draco had had enough of it and finally spoke. “Potter, any more time to think in silence and I’ll go nutters.”

“More than you already are?” Harry countered quicker than he had expected.

Draco smirked. “There you are,” he said softly. “I would rather bicker while working than sit here all day long having to think about what we did-“

“Okay, okay,” Harry said hurriedly, not wanting to hear it. But he had nothing to say to Draco. Well, he didn’t trust himself to say anything any way. The silence hung between them again and seemed even more deafening.

Draco sighed, putting his current file in its correct place in its cabinet and coming up to Harry’s desk, he leaned against it, arms crossed, looking down at Harry. Harry tensed from the close proximity and kept his eyes down. “We were fine last Monday. And Thursday, at the bar, we could talk to one another,” Draco was saying softly. “What’s changed since then?”

Harry looked up seriously. “You know what’s changed since then.”

They became silent again. Draco couldn’t understand or read Harry which unnerved him. He wanted to know what his true thoughts about Thursday were. Did he want it again? Was he regretting it? But he knew he wasn’t getting any answers that day, Harry was too tense, too nervous. “Who’s this?” Draco asked, abruptly changing the subject as he reached out onto Harry’s desk, grabbing the framed photograph, unmoving, of a toddler with black hair and round features.

Harry relaxed at the question, smiling softly at the picture. “That’s Teddy. Teddy Lupin. He’s my Godson.”

“Oh. You mean, Remus Lupin’s son?”

“Yeah. Your second cousin technically, too, being Andromeda Black’s grandson and all,” Harry explained. Draco knew who he was though. He had heard talk of Teddy and seen pictures before though he had never met the boy. There was still a rift in his family, especially now since his views had so drastically changed.

“Who watches him? I heard his Mother also passed at the Battle.”

Harry frowned. It was never a subject he liked to think on. “She did. Andromeda takes care of him. He comes round about once a week, too. Will stay overnight on the odd occasion.”

“Harry Potter babysitting?” Draco grinned. “Not exactly a sight I can easily imagine.”

“Yeah well, Teddy and I get on well,” Harry blushed. “Though he is quite a bit of a Marauder that one.”

“Must be in his blood.”

Harry looked up at Draco, still admiring the photo of the smiling little child. He didn’t know where the question came from but it suddenly fumbled out of his lips. “Do you want kids?”

Draco seemed startled by the inquiry as he returned the frame to its spot on the desk. “Gay, remember? It’s not something I really ever contemplated.”

“You could always adopt,” Harry suggested. “Or use surrogacy.”

Draco stilled. He may be integrated into muggle culture but he would never once even consider using such means for having children. It was against everything his family had stood for, making an impure bloodline. Eventually he shrugged. The conversation went silent again and Draco slowly stood up. He looked around the office. It was a right set neater than it had the first Monday he had walked in there. His work would be done in a few months and he knew it besides the odd occasion he would have to come up there.

“There’s some things I need to sort out downstairs. And Kingsley asked me to help out his secretary before I went off home,” Draco explained suddenly as he pushed off from the desk, straightening his robes as he did. Harry couldn’t help the disappointment clearly written across his face.

“Oh. Okay. Next Monday then?”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe you could bring your birthday gift over this weekend and we could watch them together? It would be nice to see it again without the disturbing side show,” Draco drawled, shoving the image of Sadie and Blaise in his armchair out of his head.

Harry flushed. “I have a boyfriend,” he said quietly.

Draco shrugged. “And that makes it illegal for you to watch a movie? You know where I live. Blaise will be at Sadie’s Friday night so they won’t be able to blind either of us. I will see you then.”

“What makes you think I’ll come?”

Draco flashed him a winning smile, one that had Harry feeling weak again. “I will see you then,” he repeated, sounding so sure of himself.

Harry cursed Draco and himself once he was alone in his office. Without the influence of alcohol Harry knew there was no denying it now. He was most definitely attracted to Draco and now it was obvious of Draco’s intentions. Harry felt his nerves creep up again. Friday night. Alone in a house with him, watching a movie.

“Merlin murder me,” he groaned, his head falling with a thud onto his desk.


	7. Chapter Seven

“I don’t care where you go just leave.”

Blaise shook his head. “Sadie’s working! What am I supposed to do?”

“Go get pissed and sleep outside for all I care,” Draco snapped. “My house, remember?”

“Fine. Whatever, Malfoy, I’ll be at the nursery then,” Blaise grumbled. He walked from the den into the kitchen, the immediate smell of something delicious wafted into his nostrils. “What the hell is this?” He cursed, going over to the oven and opening the door. There were three separate trays of dips cooking in the oven, Blaise had the pleasure of trying each before. They were perfect snacking dips, for breads or chips. Draco only ever made them when he had company. Draco appeared beside him, slamming the oven shut.

“Piss off already, Zabini,” Draco’s tone was getting dangerously low.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were having company? Who is it, then?” Blaise urged, more than happy to leave the house now. Draco rarely had company over but when he did sometimes Pansy and Nott were in the throng of it and Blaise loved distancing himself as much as he could from his ex-wife.

Draco was silent, his face masked and lips pursed as he busied himself flicking his wand at the dried dishes in the sink, levitating them into their rightful place. “If its Pans, you know I don’t care.”

“It’s not Pansy and Theo,” Draco assured him but still didn’t answer his question. His phone went off and he was all too quick to answer it.

Understanding dawned in Blaise’s eyes. “Sweet Salazar I never thought the day would come. It’s the bloody Golden Boy, isn’t it?”

Draco turned away from Blaise, still refusing to answer him as he made his way to the small wine fridge built into the island in the kitchen. “Bugger off Zabini, _now.”_

Blaise put his hands up in mock defense. “I’m going, I’m going.” But it was already too late and there was the sound of a knock on the door. Blaise was closer – and faster – than Draco to reaching it.

“Fuck off through the Floo, would you?” Draco growled between his teeth, smoothing a hand through his hair uneasily.

“Not a chance,” Blaise smirked largely, pulling the door open.

Harry stood there in muggle clothes, shifting from one foot to the next. He had the Lord of the Rings trilogy in his hands. “Er, hello Zabini.”

“Oh, Draco, you didn’t tell me it was movie night. Just to warn you, Potter, he’s got a thing for the elves,” Blaise winked and hurried out of the door before Draco could throttle him.

They stood there, silent for a moment. Draco’s eyes ran up and down Harry, taking in the slightly tight jeans and the fitted tee. He always dressed so simply but even still Draco wanted to devour him and practically was with his eyes. But then he noticed something different but familiar on Harry’s face. His round glasses were back. “Why are you wearing your glasses again?”

Harry blushed at the question. “They’re hideous, I know,” he mumbled. “The repairing charm is only semi-permanent. My appointment is tomorrow so I’m stuck with these tonight.”

Draco couldn’t help but see a smaller, younger version of Harry reflected in the glasses. He smiled wanly. “They aren’t hideous. Well, the eyes make up for it.”

Harry faltered at the compliment, his cheeks flaming red. He urged the DVDs forward at Draco. “Uhm. I hear this is long. Shouldn’t we get started?”

“I think you have to come in first to make it to the living room,” Draco smirked, stepping aside from the door. Harry took a few tentative steps inside, kicking his shoes off as he did. “Tour?” He offered.

Harry nodded briefly, looking around at Draco’s house. It felt so personal to be there, almost like he was invading him even with the invitation. The entire house was small, yet modern and appeared to be open concept. It was nothing like his flat that was for sure. There were plenty of pictures dawning the walls here and there, some art, but mostly ones from Hogwarts. Harry never took Draco for the nostalgic kind. The tour excluded the upstairs which Harry was more than thankful of, not knowing what he would do if he was lead into Draco’s bedroom. They ended in the kitchen, Draco used a quick few flicks of his wrist to summon himself a glass of wine.

“Drink, Harry?”

The question startled Harry. “Er. Beer’s good for me, any kind you have, really.”

Draco handed Harry one from the fridge, their fingers brushing as they exchanged it. Harry jumped at the touch enough for Draco to notice, causing him to grin. “How’s your _boyfriend_?” he asked.

Harry blushed at the words, he nearly choked on his first sip of the beer. “Fine. Just fine,” he lied. In honesty he had barely spoken to or seen Migel since last weekend. There were a few chaste kisses between the two of them and Migel had come over, completely hammered, on Wednesday evening and they had sex but he had disappeared immediately afterwards. “The movies, then?” Harry insisted. He couldn’t stand trying to make small talk with Draco in the kitchen. Not when he sat there, so at ease, smirking over at him, his slender fingers curled gently around the stem of his glass. ‘ _How have I never realized how bloody good he looks till now?’_

 _‘Probably because he was a prat before.’_ He answered himself.

“Are you coming?” Draco was by the door to the living room. Harry followed shakily. What was he expecting, to be jumped the moment they sat on the couch?

Harry watched as Draco inserted the first disk, slightly amused at him operating muggle machinery so well. Draco left to the kitchen once more, coming back levitating multiple trays of dips and things to dip into them, placing them on the table. Draco settled into the far corner of the couch. Harry was eyeing him carefully. The couch wasn’t overly large and Harry wasn’t sure of what to do, where to sit.

“It’s either the couch or you can take your chances with the armchair,” Draco nudged toward the infamous chair.

Harry smirked at that. “I think I’ll take the couch then, thanks,” he sat down, as far as possible away from Draco as he could.

The movie began. The living room was dark other than the light coming from the screen. Harry barely paid any attention to the movie, he was being hyper aware of every move Draco made beside him. He would lean forward every once and awhile, take a piece of bread or cracker from a tray and dip it. Harry would watch from the corner of his eye, the way his jaw moved as he chewed, how his finger slipped between his lips if any dip got onto them. Harry’s heart was hammering again. He could swear on Godric Gryffindor himself that Draco could probably hear it from the other end of the couch.

Halfway through the first movie Harry didn’t think he was going to make it. He kept assuring himself this was just two friends watching a trilogy. Draco had Accio’d him his third beer already. But then Harry gave a start at the feeling of Draco’s knee gently hitting his. He looked down, Draco had somehow managed to inch his way across the couch close enough that their thighs were now resting against one another’s.

Harry looked at the arm on his side of the couch and a sickening realization hit the pit of his stomach. Without thinking _he_ had been the one to move. Draco finished off his glass of wine and leaned forward to place it on the table. Harry’s eyes trailed onto the blonde’s back, staring at the small patch of skin revealed from his shirt riding ever so slightly up. He swallowed, trembling now. Draco’s skin looked like porcelain and Harry wanted nothing more than to touch it.

Draco sat back in the couch, their shoulders were touching now, too. His hand landed firmly on Harry’s leg. Harry could do nothing but stare at it. “Blaise was wrong, you know,” Draco whispered lowly over the movie.

“Hmm? About?” Harry asked, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking as much as he had imagined it was.

“I don’t like the elf. He is too blonde,” Draco was leaning closer still, his hand on Harry’s leg was slowly travelling upwards. “I like the Ranger. He is far more my type, _Harry_.”

Draco breathed his name into his ear and Harry shivered. He had never heard somebody say it quite like that before, never had he become aroused just at the sound of his name. Harry also didn’t miss the implication Draco was making, his breath hitched as the slender hand was now resting high up on his thigh. He shifted uncomfortably, hoping his growing erection wasn’t seen or noticed in the dark. “I-I have a boyfriend,” Harry found himself stuttering, his words barely audible.

Draco’s hand squeezed Harry’s thigh and he leaned even closer still. His own leg was drawn up on the couch, his whole body almost turned towards Harry now. Draco reached up with his other hand, pushed Harry’s long hair behind his ears and let his lips move forward to ghost across his ear. “ _I know_ ,” he breathed huskily.

A groan escaped Harry and all logic slipped from his head. All thoughts of Migel, of the faithfulness he owed him was gone. Draco was far too close, the now familiar scent of his shampoo invading his senses, his hand on his thigh, his lips on his ear. It was too much for him. He twisted around on the couch enough to grasp Draco’s slender hips, with ease he pulled the blond onto him.

Draco looked down in sudden surprise, now straddling Harry with his hands pressed on his chest feeling the uneven thud of his heart through his shirt. Draco looked at his hungry green eyes and before he could do or say anything Harry’s hand was wrapping in the ends of Draco’s hair and pulling him down to meet him.

Their lips came together, both immediately open and inviting the other in. Their tongues passed from one mouth to the other, massaging gently. Draco pulled slightly away from the kiss causing Harry’s grip to tighten on his hair, Draco winced but took the needy invitation. He pressed down hard against Harry, kissing him roughly, nipping gently at his lower lip. Harry gasped at the feeling of his teeth and it was followed quickly by a moan. He had never been so aroused by a kiss in his life.

Draco’s hands were roaming across his chest now, down to the hem of his shirt. He leaned back again, parting their lips for a moment and lifting Harry’s shirt over his head. Draco drank in the sight of him shirtless, his chest toned from the Auror training and slightly tanned from the summer’s sun. Draco swallowed a dry lump in his throat. Potter looked like a God.

Harry was blushing as he watched Draco’s eyes scan slowly over him. He wriggled underneath him, his hand wrapped in Draco’s hair fell down onto his hip and forced him down more fully onto him. Draco’s eyes went wide as he felt the bulge in Harry’s jeans through his own. When he leaned down to kiss Harry again he started at his jawline. Harry was shivering underneath him, pulling him down gently by the hair still, wanting to feel even closer still.

Draco’s lips traced down his collarbone, he scraped his teeth and tongue across a particularly sensitive spot. Harry moaned and wiggled beneath him, his fingers digging into Draco. Draco suddenly captured Harry’s nipple in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around quickly before nipping at it, looking up as he did so to see Harry’s reaction.

Harry was looking down at him through his glasses, his emerald eyes blazing with desire as he watched Draco move about on his chest. Draco’s hand slipped down his mid drift, slowly teasing the skin on its way. Draco resorted to kissing again, he kissed a small pattern across Harry’s chest to his other nipple which he captured and bit, this time a little harder. “F-fuck, Draco,” Harry hissed as he arched his back, pressing into Draco. Draco smirked against his skin. What he wouldn’t give to keep hearing Harry say his name like that.

Instead he sat back up, his hands on either side of Harry’s head. “Do you have any idea how hot you are when you’re all bothered like this?” Draco drawled and leaned down to capture Harry’s lips once again. This time, he rocked his hips into Harry. Their hardened members rubbed up against one another through the fabric of their tightened jeans. Harry was shivering at the touch. Draco rutted against him again, harder, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Harry’s, his eyes closed. “You’re so fucking _hot_ , Harry,” he gasped as he ground into him again.

Harry’s head was swimming but there was a sudden loud sound from the movie. It brought him from his reverie. He gripped either side of Draco’s arms. ‘ _What am I doing? What about Migel?’_ With just as much ease as he had pulled him onto him, Harry shoved Draco off back into his rightful seat on the couch. Draco was blinking at him surprised and could only watch as Harry quickly stood, grabbing his discarded shirt and throwing it on.

“Harry, I-“

“I have to go,” Harry cut him off, heading quickly for the door ignoring any calls Draco made for him after.

Harry walked, his mind racing, his lips bruised, and the blood thankfully rushing to his head and away from his member. His phone was going off every few seconds. He was too tempted to check it and turned it off, putting the urge to a stop.

“Potter!”

Harry groaned at the voice. “Potter! Is that you?”

“Oh, fuck off, Zabini!” Harry snapped once Blaise was close enough. He had been walking on the opposite side of the street, Sadie trailing not far behind. Blaise was too bold for his own good, he grabbed onto Harry’s wrist forced him to whirl to a stop and face him. Harry pulled his wand, jabbed it into his chest. Blaise’s eyes were wide and Sadie had her hand covered over her mouth in shock. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Just because something didn’t go your way, Chosen One, doesn’t give you the right to storm around pointing wands and threatening people,” Blaise snarled. Harry grumbled for a moment before shoving his wand back in his pocket, turning to leave. “What did he do?” He asked, trying to catch up with Harry’s furious pace.

“Can’t you just piss off, why do you care?” Harry mumbled.

“I care because believe it or not he is my best mate and you’re being an absolute tit. I care because I know he can be an arrogant twat but I also know you’re the one thing he wants more than anything else.”

Harry stopped his pace, Blaise almost ran full into his back at the sudden stop. “What did you just say?”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like it’s a surprise. Every bleeding person in our year at school knew it. From day one you got under his skin like no other. He chased after you like a Crup after his own tail. So tell me what did he do?”

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, he couldn’t believe he was standing in the middle of the street having this talk with Blaise Zabini of all people. “Nothing,” he muttered.

“Then what happened?” Sadie asked softly. She had obviously just come off her shift, her name badge still on her shirt. Harry had a right mind to curse her for telling Draco that he was in her bar last week but the rest of him wanted to thank the odd, petite muggle.

“I have a boyfriend,” he confessed.

“You mean that bloke the Prophet ran that article about? If you’re still with him then why in Salazar’s name did you agree to come to his house, alone, in the first place? What the bloody fuck did you think was going to happen? Have tea biscuits and talk about Grindylows? Merlin, Potter, I knew you were thick but I didn’t think you were as bad as the common Hufflepuff!” Blaise snapped.

Harry stilled. He couldn’t really respond to that. He knew what could have happened if he went to Draco’s, he knew the risk, of losing control of himself again, of giving into the growing urges he had around the man. Blaise’s blackberry went off. He grabbed it and huffed, rolling his eyes as he shoved it into Harry’s hands.

“What, why?” Harry asked but then Harry read the message from Draco. ‘I think I buggered everything up.’ It was simple but the admission of worry struck Harry.

“Look. Now he’s probably driving himself insane and it’s all over you, Potter. Bastards probably alphabetically arranging the cupboards again,” Blaise muttered and Sadie sighed, frowning.

Harry looked skeptically at the two of them. “Alphabetically what?”

“He does it when he’s really upset,” Sadie explained shortly.

“Listen,” Blaise clicked his tongue impatiently. “You need to tell me whether or not you’re going back there because knowing Draco he will work himself into a frenzy over you. Why is beyond me but I’ve learned to stop asking at this point. If you don’t go, we need to be there. So tell me, am I kipping it at Sadie’s tonight or back home?”

Harry bit his lip. He didn’t think Draco would be that effected, to be honest. He was Draco Malfoy. He could just brush it off and continue on with his night. “I-I don’t…oh, bugger. I’m sorry, I can’t.” Harry turned to leave.

“At least tell me why and for goodness sake don’t you dare tell me it’s because he’s _Malfoy_.”

“It’s not. And it’s not because I don’t want to, either. It’s because I don’t want to be a cheater.” Harry didn’t wait for their response and ignored Blaise’s calls after him. After a few paces he swiftly apparated home.


	8. Chapter Eight

Harry woke up Monday morning, sweat beading down his face with Draco’s name on his lips. When he closed his eyes he could see him, slowly travelling kisses down his chest, gently nipping at his nipples. Harry shivered at the new memory. His hands could still feel his soft, fine hair between his digits. The way Draco looked, eyes glazed over with lust, as he rutted against him.

The weekend was one of torture for him. After the same dream visited him on Friday night he had all the answers he needed. It was Malfoy he wanted. It always had been and always would be. In school it was Malfoy he wanted to make angry, Malfoy he wanted to seek revenge on, Malfoy he wanted to save during the War and now it was Draco he wanted to kiss. Migel was at David’s cottage the entire weekend and Harry had a half mind to drive down there himself and break up with him.

Unfortunately it had to wait till Sunday evening and Harry’s nerves nearly got the better of him. He nearly folded. He was about to, right after he called Migel over to talk. The moment he saw him walk through the door his heart sank. He had never done this, next to telling Ginny he was gay. But that wasn’t the same. Migel was his first. Migel had thrown a fit at first. Broke quite a few things before settling down, asking the most important question, why.

_“I can’t take it. We’ve tried for the past few months and lord knows I’m through with putting all my effort into it. I can’t take the shouting, the bickering, the goddamn jealousy. It’s too much. I can’t even go out with Ron Monday nights without you hammering down my throat.”_

_“And that’s it then? All because of my jealousy? I hardly believe-“_

_“I kissed Draco. Not once but twice. And a lot. Is that what you wanted to hear, Migel?” Harry eventually ground out. “Even without Draco, this would’ve ended soon. It’s obviously not working anymore.”_

Harry almost immediately regretted his words. Migel went off the handle again, shouting about how he knew that it was coming. Harry resorted to apologizing, he did feel absolutely horrible about unrightfully kissing Draco. Eventually, however, he became calm. He couldn’t forgive Harry but he too understood, they were too different for one another. Once Migel had left the flat Harry felt finally free. He almost apparated straight to Draco’s doorstep but he restrained himself.

Then there was the fiasco of messages left on his phone he finally checked on Saturday. ‘I buggered up, didn’t I?’ ‘Sorry. If it makes any difference.’ ‘Where are you going?’ ‘You can’t just play around with people like this, Potter. Who do you think you are?’ ‘You forgot your gift. At least come back and get that.’ ‘Goddammit, Potter, answer me!’

But now it was Monday and Draco was going to be in his office. All day. The door closed, alone with him. Harry shook the vivid imagery of kissing him senseless from his head as he got ready and headed to work.

By the time he entered his office Draco was already there, bustling around the room putting files in their rightful place. Harry was impressed. In such a short period of time he did tenfold what Barbara had done in a decade. Draco’s usual robe was discarded, folded neatly over his chair, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing the Dark Mark which he rarely made visible. Harry’s eyes trailed down his back, following the curve of it through his blouse and ended up on his arse.

“You’re late,” Draco said sounding strained without turning around.

“Er, up a bit late last night. Sorry about that,” Harry mumbled, softly closing the door behind him. “You’re not supposed to be in here by yourself,” he stated.

Draco turned to look at him at last and all the air forced out of Harry’s lungs. Although he looked tired himself, a little peeved off, Harry’s mind still imagined the vantage point of peering down at Draco kissing down his front. Harry’s mouth went dry, he slowly licked his lips, his eyes roaming over Draco. “Did your little boy-toy keep you up till all hours?” Draco asked petulantly.

“Don’t call him that. And yes, sort of,” Harry admitted. Draco’s face fell into a sneer and he quickly turned back to work. “Listen, Draco-“

“I don’t want to hear it, Scarhead.”

Harry frowned, turning towards his door and taking his wand out to point at it. “ _Colloportus.”_ The door clicked loud enough for Draco to tense at the sound of it, he paused momentarily before continuing on. Harry stopped him, finally reaching his side and grasping at his arm. “Draco, please, just listen to what I have to say to you,” he softly pleaded.

Draco looked down at his hand before narrowing his eyes and snatching his arm from Harry. “Piss off. I just want to do my work in peace.”

“Fine,” Harry growled, “If words aren’t going to work then I hope this does.”

With all the Gryffindor courage Harry could muster, he seized Draco forcibly with both arms now. He pressed into him as hard as he could and smashed their lips harshly together. Draco gave a small squeak of surprise before he relaxed and melted into the kiss. Harry released his arms as his hands slowly ran down his sides, his lower back, resting on his arse. Draco opened his mouth fully into Harry, his own hands clutched at the fabric of his work robes.

Draco made a slight roll of his hips and was surprised to have Harry openly moan into his mouth at the friction. With another grip of Draco’s biceps, Harry led him with ease to his desk, pushing him back up against it. Draco backed away from the kiss for a moment as Harry’s hands worked at unfastening his robes, standing between his now spread legs. “Harry, what about Migel?” Draco asked softly and bit back a moan as Harry’s hands were suddenly pushing his robe off his shoulders, his mouth was nibbling at a soft spot between his ear and his jaw, sucking it.

Harry only paused for a moment to look back up at Draco, his green eyes shining. “Me and him. We’re over,” he merely said before lowering himself back onto Draco’s neck to reclaim it.

Draco sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as his head dropped slightly backwards, enjoying the feeling of Harry’s mouth mapping out his neck. His hands were untucking his blouse from his trousers, moving up his chest. They both rested on his nipples, pinching gently. “Harry,” Draco hissed in warning, “What if somebody can hear- _ooh_.” Draco lost the ability to speak as Harry began rutting up against him, his erection pushed through the fabric of his jeans into Draco’s own growing excitement.

“Door locked. Constant muffiliato on the room, too,” Harry mumbled hastily.

That was enough for Draco. Despite Harry’s strength he pushed him backwards onto his chair and quickly straddled him, pulling at his own tie to take it off, leaving it discarded on the ground. He unfastened Harry’s robes, pressed his body down into his lap. “Let’s pick this up where we left off, shall we?” Draco whispered seductively.

Harry couldn’t help but moan causing Draco’s prick to twitch at the sound. Harry had been dreaming of that very moment for days now and all he wanted was to see where Draco had been leading him that night. Harry brought his hand back up to wrap around Draco’s neck and pulled him down again, just as he had on Friday, and kissed him rousingly.

There was some hurried knocking at the door and both of them could faintly hear the sound of Harry’s name being called. They grudgingly parted their lips, their foreheads resting on one another’s. “Bollocks,” Harry swore.

Draco smirked, his eyes still half-lidded and breathing slightly ragged. He reluctantly stood as the knocking became even more persistent. They both collected their robes, quickly fastening them and straightening them out over their arousals. Harry shot Draco a nervous smile which was returned by a winning, devilish smirk that Harry just wanted to cover with his own mouth again. “ _Finite_ ,” Harry said, unlocking the door from his chair where he had settled into. Thankful for the desk in the way of his trouser area.

“Harry, c’mon!!” It was unmistakeably Ron’s voice.

With the flick of his wand the door creaked open, Draco was standing there, arms crossed, staring at a frazzled looking Ron. “Weasel, is there something we can do for you?” he clicked rather impatiently. Harry looked at him blisteringly and back at Ron.

Ron looked over Draco sneering. “I thought you were on patrol, what’s up, mate?” Harry asked, his voice was slightly hoarse and shaking, his eyes kept darting to Draco, scanning him, taking in every bit of him and resisting the urge to continue to jump him even with Ron in the room.

“I just Floo’d in to collect you. I was called in by Hopkins to Gringotts, there was a break in. The suspects were caught but their intentions are still unclear. We need to question them under Veritaserum and the bastard goblins are simply insisting we do it in their presence,” Ron explained.

Harry groaned. He always hated when they would have to work with Gringotts. “Alright, I’m on my way.”

Ron shot another look at Draco before turning to leave. “Well, fuck,” Harry muttered, getting up from his desk.

Draco merely smirked, hiding his disappointment at their interruption. Harry left the office, shooting a couple glances back at Draco who was already back to work, seeming to be at ease. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times to say goodbye but the words never came. Instead he caught up with Ron at the Floo Corridor in their Department. Ron was looking at him, eyebrows raised and arms crossed about his chest, grinning ever so slightly.

“So...that was rather quick.”

“What was?” Harry asked dumbly, stepping forward to the first Floo, picking up a handful of powder and stepping under the mantle place.

Ron’s grin widened. “Well, if those weren’t love bites all over his neck I don’t know what is.

Harry cheeks changed into a flaming red before he through the powder down, whispering his destination and disappearing in a puff of green smoke. Ron chuckled and followed after.

* * *

 Draco couldn’t remember a happier time in his life. How he felt was comparable to when he got proudly sorted into Slytherin or when he cast his first spell with his very own wand. He had everything. He had his best friend, though sometimes a twat, and he had other friends along with him. He had his own home, something he had built off of his own success without the help of his family or namesake.

And most importantly, he had Harry. After two short snogging sessions he knew he had him. He saw it in the determined look in those green eyes that morning in Harry’s office. Or the way he writhed against him on his desk, the way his hands grasped at his clothes although fumbling they did so with purpose, intent and need.

“Potter gave up on that whole boyfriend rubbish then?” Blaise had asked upon seeing Draco that evening, coming home just after dinner. Draco didn’t even ask him how he knew. It was obvious in the love bites trailing over his neck, the ones he wore like a trophy rather than disillusion and hide them. “I’m glad then. Even if it is an insufferable prat like Pottyhead. I’m glad you’ve finally got somebody else to pester other than me.”

Sadie was alongside him. The two barely parted these days. Neville was there as well, having a drink after a long day at the nursery. “Y-you mean Harry and _Malfoy_? No way they’re an item. I mean, I know Harry, he’s got that boyfriend Migel and he would never cheat on him let alone leave him.”

Draco raised his eyebrow at the Gryffindor. “Clearly you do not know him well enough,” he drawled.

Neville blinked a few times, shaking his head in denial. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“C’mon, I think they’d be cute together!” Sadie chirped in happily, smiling from ear-to-ear.

Draco, who was currently flicking his wand about the kitchen, tidying his dishes from dinner, idly took out his phone. “I am inclined to prove you wrong.” And he was but that wasn’t the only reason he texted Harry. He wanted to see him, he yearned to finish their session once again interrupted in his office earlier that day.

‘Come over.’ It was a simple, quick request but he knew it would be answered quickly. Harry was an impatient man, he always had been. It was one of his many lingering traits from boyhood.

‘Out for drinks with Ron. It’s a Monday tradition.’

‘Come over after.’

There was a small smiley face that Harry responded with, one Draco rolled his eyes at and mumbled, “Sappy Potter.” ‘I’ll be over when I can.’

“You better have not invited him over. We don’t need to be seeing that, Malfoy,” Blaise teased. Draco shot him a withering look before returning to the dishes.

Back at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry sat twitching his foot eagerly as he checked his phone every few minutes after Draco’s last text. “What do you suppose I should tell ‘Mione?”

“Hmm? About what?”

Ron groaned, rolling his eyes. “Bloody hell you’re not even listening to me. What should I tell her about wanting to wait for another baby? Rose is running me on dry right about now,” he admitted.

But Harry didn’t respond, he was staring at his phone again, twiddling with a few applications and looking back and forth between the time and his latest messages. “For Godric’s sake, you’re swooning, mate. It’s a little disturbing considering it’s over Malfoy.”

Harry blushed, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I am not,” he muttered.

“What are you now? Boyfriends?”

“Think that’s a little soon for that. We have a mutual interest-“

“In snogging each other,” Ron finished blandly for him.

Harry’s blush deepened and he shrugged into his mug of Firewhiskey. “Er, well yeah but…how are you still so okay with this?”

“Like we said, we support you whatever decisions you make as long as you’re happy. It’s a little unfortunate that you find that in Malfoy but whatever, mate, so long as I don’t have to tolerate him all the time.”

But Harry only heard the first part of Ron’s sentence, he was staring at his phone again, secretly hoping Draco would text him again. “Bloody hell you little school girl, get on then.”

“Huh?”

“Go on. I should get back to ‘Mione anyway and you obviously can’t concentrate on anything other than Malfoy.”

Harry bit his lip and nodded. “Thanks mate. Also, you were good today.”

Ron smiled. “You too, but I guess that’s what they pay you for.”

Harry said his goodbye’s hastily before paying Tom for their tab and hurrying to the Floo Network of the Leaky Cauldron. He took a steadying breath before murmuring Draco’s residence and disappearing in the green smoke.

Draco, unlike Harry, was a patient man. After all, good things came to those who waited.

And he knew, as he settled into the living room with Longbottom, Blaise and Sadie that his patience would indeed be paid off. They were arguing about what to watch on the television. Draco, however, was caught between looking at the box set he had given Harry, placed on the edge of his coffee table, and his phone. Who knew such a device could lead him somewhere he never thought he would, although hoped, be.

“But that talent show is bloody awful,” Blaise cursed.

“Two against one, love,” Sadie chirped, happy to have Neville agree on the program with her.

A sound interrupted them, it came from upstairs in the study. It was the unmistakeable sound of a thud, somebody landing on their feet. Draco had felt it gently ripple through him, his simple house wards let those in that were trusted even through the Floo. His heart leapt. It had to be Harry. Without a word he left, three pairs of eyes following him.

As he came upon the study, Harry’s back was turned to the door. He was holding something in his hands, looking at it carefully. He turned it over a few times. Draco noted what would be the most interesting object to Harry in the room. He quietly made his way across to him, standing behind him he leaned down, breathing gently on his neck. “Hello, Harry.”

Harry gave a small start and turned around to meet Draco who was awfully close. His eyes fell down to his neck, cheeks turning red at the marks proudly worn on his skin. Draco was smirking at him, his grey eyes alight. Harry held forward Draco’s own wand, his green eyes silently questioning.

Draco took the familiar, though weighted, piece of wood in his hands. He rubbed it between his fingers before leaning over Harry, pressing their fronts together as he did, and placed it on the mantle. “It never did quite feel the same after you used it. Had to get a new one. Now,” the back of Draco’s hand fell across Harry’s cheek. His skin was so smooth but the slight bristle of his afternoon shadow felt somehow nice against his hand. “Where were we?”

Harry, though shaking with nerves, didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms loosely around Draco’s lower back. “Here. I think we were about here,” he whispered as his mouth turned up ever so slightly to claim Draco’s in his own.

Draco moaned. Snogging Harry would never get old for him, every time it felt different and the same all at once. He was busy, lost in Harry’s lips and the way his hands held onto him, or the way his own hand found its way through his unruly, silken hair. He wasn’t sure when, or who, had led to the small sitting chair in the study, one of two, but Draco was sitting down on it. It was the first time Harry was on top of him, straddling him. Harry broke apart for a moment, his eyes glazed, his hand was wound in Draco’s tie still on from work.

“How’d I never see that you were this _hot_ before?” Harry’s voice was hoarse.

“Blinded prejudice. Don’t worry, Potter, I always knew you were good looking,” Draco smirked at Harry’s surprised response but quickly reclaimed his lips. His tie was off, thrown somewhere behind him, Harry worked the buttons of his shirt without looking, their lips only breaking every few moments for air. Then when his shirt was off, Harry backed up once more, drinking in the sight. He was slender, all the way down with a slight curve in his waistline. He had a thin trail of startling blonde hair down his chest, all the way to his waistline and further. Harry was most drawn to a deep, long scar across the middle of his chest. His fingers ran across it causing Draco to shiver.

“I did this, didn’t I?” Harry asked quietly.

Draco grabbed him roughly by the arms, forcing Harry to look away from the scar and at him instead. “You did. A long time ago. And for what I was up to back then I deserved it-ah ah,” Draco quickly cut off Harry’s protests. “Don’t. Leave it back where it belongs.”

Harry nodded slowly, biting his lower lip, he didn’t like the look of the scar on his chest knowing he had put it there all those years ago. Draco noted his discomfort and tried to distract him with snogging again as he own hands worked at Harry’s robes. Soon they were both shirtless, rutting against one another and breathing heavily. Harry was at it again, his mouth lowering down onto Draco’s neck, travelling lower down his abdomen. Suddenly Harry was on his knees and Draco was blinking down, looking at a mess of raven hair and blazing green eyes. Bloody hell, he was convinced there was nothing greener in the entire world. The pit of his stomach was churning, Harry’s hands were on his belt.

“May I?” Harry’s voice was rough and low, just the sound of it had Draco quivering. Draco nodded deftly. Of course he could, he could do whatever he wanted with him right then and there when he asked under those eyes. Harry smiled at the allowance and hastily removed his belt, pulling his trousers down. Draco’s head was swimming. Last Friday night he had snogged Harry and now he was there, obviously more than happy to relieve his throbbing member.

Draco’s hand weaved into the thick hair, his other one braced himself on the armchair. His head threw back, his eyes shut as his heart thudded a million miles a minute in his chest. When Harry lowered his hand and mouth onto his erection in unison, Draco thought his whole body was going to explode.

It was nearly a half hour later just after Draco had returned Harry’s earlier favour that the two of them were lying on the floor, starker other than their briefs, in a mess of clothing and sweat. “That was…” Harry trailed off. His head was lying on Draco’s arm, resting against it.

“Bloody fantastic and unexpected. Yes,” Draco earnestly agreed. He relished the feeling of Harry lying against him, his body relaxed from the earlier orgasm.

“Draco…what does this make us, exactly?” Harry’s question left an uncertain air amongst them. Draco tensed.

Yes. He liked Harry. Yes. He was thoroughly attracted to him. Yes. He wanted to do what they did as often as he could. What else? Harry was looking for a title and he knew it. “It makes us a little late on a first date,” Draco drawled at last, causing Harry to laugh light heartedly.

His laughter was abruptly cut off by a sharp, loud knock on the door. “Oi! Malfoy, if you don’t get down here soon Nev’s gonna have an embolism!”

Harry shot up on his elbows, looking curiously down at Draco. “Nev? As in Neville Longbottom? Here?”

Draco raised his eyebrow. “Not by choice, I assure you. I thought you would know, Blaise and him are rather close from work and all.”

Harry nodded. He did know that. He still saw Neville on the occasion, they were still friends after all. It was just odd to think that he was there, at Draco’s house of all places. “Malfoy! I swear, he’s going to start blowing things up!”

“You yell through my doors one more time Zabini and I will give you something to yell about,” Draco snapped icily, sounding perfectly like his old self but for some reason this time it was making Harry grin at him. The two got up and dressed slowly.

“I guess I’ll be off,” Harry said awkwardly, starting towards the Floo. Draco caught him by his wrist, whirling him around to meet him.

“Like hell you are leaving me to explanations with Longbottom,” Draco began leading the way out of the room, pausing at the door as Harry tugged in slight protest.

“But, what can we say? I mean, he’s going to ask and I-“

“Say whatever you wish,” Draco cut him off calmly, knowing exactly what Harry meant. He wanted to know what title to give them again. Harry’s eyes shone with appreciation, that Draco had given him that.

Blaise flung the door open looking flustered. “Honestly. Between that barmy program and Neville working himself into stitches and you moaning away up here I was almost driven to St Mungo’s,” he grumbled.

“Eh, hello Zabini,” Harry greeted awkwardly. Blaise merely rolled his eyes at Harry.

“Better out then in, right Potter?” He snipped and started leading them off down the stairs. Harry took every moment he could looking around Draco’s house, he had never been in the upstairs. It was simple. Small. It didn’t scream of Malfoy but it most certainly felt like Draco.

At the landing they were ambushed by both Sadie and Neville. Neville looked as if he were about to faint, his eyes wide and trained on Draco’s hand still wrapped around Harry’s wrist. “H-Harry?” He asked uncertainly.

“Fancy seeing you here, Nev,” Harry said nervously, scratching at the back of his neck.

Blaise sighed at the scene, walking passed them and into the living room. “You owe me ten galleons, Longbottom!” He yelled, turning Neville’s cheeks a rosy red.

“Harry, how?” He asked shortly again.

Harry was silent, looking at his shoes rather than Neville. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

“I feel like some Carmenere tonight. Sadie, will you be joining me?” Draco asked abruptly, finally letting go of Harry. Sadie took the hint and nodded, following Draco off into the kitchens.

Harry shifted awkwardly in front of Neville who shifted in return, neither spoke for a long time. At long last Neville spoke.

“You and Malfoy an item. Can’t say that’s not a surprise, mate.”


	9. Chapter Nine

Summer became cold; the leaves gave way with the warm sun. Harry was in a daze for the first few months of his so called relationship with Malfoy. Everything was going surprisingly well which was odd seeing that Harry was waiting with baited breath for one of their bickering moments to turn into the uproar of the century. But they never did. The bickering stayed light-hearted and almost playful.

They spent most of the hours together in Draco’s house or at Sadie’s bar. Draco even agreed to go over to Ron and Hermione’s sometime, though most of the time he sulked to himself or preoccupied with talking to Rose which was more than a surprise for everybody that the little girl liked him so much. Ron chalked it up to the blond hair and nothing more.

Harry discovered many things about Draco that surprised him over the months. He was a phenomenal cook, even without using any magic to do so. He was anal when it came to organization and Harry absolutely feared putting a simple spice in the wrong place in his cupboards as they had to be alphabetical. He had a niche for muggle fashion, more than anything else muggle, especially their ties which he spent more on one than Harry would on an entire outfit. The Malfoy Manor, a place he had not returned to and never wished to, was still well kept by its House Elves and visited rarely by him and his Mother. His Mother barely corresponded with him and usually only via owl. Draco had yet to tell her of his new, budding relationship. Not out of fear of disapproval, as Harry assumed it was at first, but because they simply were no longer close after his Father was imprisoned.

And Draco learned much about Harry as well. He was, as he always suspected, vastly loyal to his friends and any others close to him. He was messy, carefree, nervous and thoughtful all at once. He was almost painfully sentimental at times. Draco was surprised to learn that Harry owned a separate piece of property apart from his flat, somewhere Draco had yet to be, called Grimmauld Place. He had been twice before as a very small child. Apparently his Godfather had passed it down to Harry and he hadn’t the heart to give it up, the same way Draco couldn’t with the Manor. They visited Grimmauld Place once, Harry said it was to give the old House Elf company even though he hardly seemed as if he wanted any. The walls of the place made Draco shiver, along with the shouting of the unremovable portrait of its matron.

“I want to go out,” Draco said suddenly one day. It had been raining nearly a week and although cloudy at least it wasn’t wet. It was cold, nearing the end of November, but it had yet to snow.

Harry was currently curled up on an armchair in Draco’s study, his feet tucked underneath himself and indulged heavily in a muggle crime novel. Draco was brewing a batch of Pepper-Up potions. Apparently, as Harry learned, he refused to buy anything he could brew himself. He had a small area set aside in his study for potion making and Harry had to admit it wasn’t just being the teachers godson that made Draco so good at the art.

“Where? Down to the pub?” Harry asked, dog earing his book causing Draco to narrow his eyes at it. He hated how Harry marked his pages.

“I was thinking shopping.” Draco stirred his potion three times clockwise again, paused for a moment and then twice counter clockwise before letting it simmer by itself.

Harry groaned. Every few weeks he was dragged to the local muggle mall much to his dismay. “Didn’t we _just_ go?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes. But with Winter nearly here I need a new set of robes.”

“Fine, but I get to pick where we go for-wait, robes?” Harry stopped mid-sentence realizing what Draco was slyly suggesting. He didn’t want to go to the muggle mall, he wanted to go to Diagon Alley. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”

“And why not? It’s been three months, Harry. You can’t expect to hide away forever.”

“Why not? Because I haven’t been on the front page since that incident with Migel-“ Draco scoffed at the name, as he usually did, “-and I’d really like to keep it that way. It’s bloody annoying to have everybody in your business.”

“I know. Not as much as you do but I know. After the Death Eater trials, after Azkaban, I had to confine myself to the Manor for months on end before venturing into Diagon Alley. No matter when we go they will make an unnecessary ruckus about it. And since when do you care about other peoples opinions?” Draco accused lightly.

Harry grimaced. “I don’t. I just hate being the centre of attention.”

Draco found himself grinning, he stood up from his potion, putting a stasis charm on it as he did. He walked over to Harry, took his book and tossed it onto his desk, he straddled his boyfriend, kissing him breathlessly for a moment. Harry had slightly shorter hair now, to Draco’s request, and his glasses were back. There was something nostalgic about them that Draco missed whenever he didn’t wear them. Draco broke away from the kiss, smirking down at Harry. “The difference is this time it will be _us_ at the centre of attention.”

“Yeah, I bet you’ll bloody love that,” Harry grumbled.

“Of course. When do I not? At least this time it won’t be about being a Death Eater,” Draco shrugged. He leaned down onto Harry, rocking his hips into his. “I promise to make it up to you later tonight,” he lowered his voice to a husky whisper.

Harry smiled lopsidedly at that, his hands gripping Draco’s hips. “Fine you ponce, let’s go get you even more robes. But if we’re going to Diagon I’ll need to make a trip to Gringott’s first.”

“Home, too. You aren’t going dressed like that for our first public appearance,” Draco frowned at Harry’s oversized, comfortable attire. Harry rolled his eyes but nodded, it was useless fighting, that much he knew.

Harry’s flat was a few blocks away, they decided to walk instead of Floo. The Ministry was trying a temporary taxation on regional Floo trips, there had been quite the up-rise concerning it. Harry was pleased when he went to work that reporters were banging down the Ministry doors and for once it wasn’t for him. Before reaching the stairs to Harry’s flat, Draco made way for the café underneath it. Harry groaned, trying to stop his boyfriend but it was no use. When he was determined he got what he wanted and he wanted coffee. But Harry knew that wasn’t what drove Draco inside, it was the particular blonde working behind the counter.

Draco put his arm around Harry’s shoulders, something he rarely did because their height differences made it feel awkward. He pulled him close to his side, waited patiently in line, his mouth drawn out in a thin smirk. Harry’s colour drained from his face as they were next in line. “Do you really-“

“Shush now,” Draco said quickly. Migel turned away from giving his last costumer their drink and without looking up asked them what they would like to order. “Two coffees, please. One black with three sugars, one with one sugar, half milk and two shots of vanilla.”

It seemed even Draco’s voice was a distant memory to Migel, he still hadn’t looked up as he punched the order into the register. When he went to ask for money he finally brought his head up. His eyes went wide at the sight of the two, close at one another’s side, Harry blushing madly and looking at his feet and Draco grinning triumphantly and handing over a couple of notes to pay for their drinks. “So I was right,” Migel said softly after a minute. There wasn’t the malice in his voice either of them had expected, then again it had been a few months.

Harry finally looked up and smiled sheepishly. “Er, I guess so. How are you?”

Migel shrugged. “Back at school. Doing alright, I suppose. Been seeing David’s friend Ian.”

Harry shook his head, “Ian? That’s certainly surprising.”

“Tell me about it. He’s a good bloke.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Harry said earnestly. And he was. It was like a small weight in the back of his subconscious was lifted, knowing Migel had somebody else.

“And you,” he turned to Draco, his tone slightly harder. “You take care of him, would you?”

Draco shrugged noncommittally. “Scarhead is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”

Migel laughed lightly. “Hardly.” He quickly put his hands up in protest at Harry’s glare and took Draco’s notes, handing him his change and continuing to get their coffees.

Once they left, Draco pouted on their way upstairs. “I had been waiting for that for a while. I’m a bit disappointed.”

Harry sighed, “Not everybody is as dramatic as you tend to be.”

Draco elbowed him softly in the side, stepping back as Harry led the way up the narrow staircase to his flat. Draco hadn’t been to Harry’s flat since they had been together. He vaguely remembered the cozy enclosed space, the messy haphazard way everything was strewn apart the apartment. Harry was quick to change into one of the outfits Draco had bought for him on one of their first shopping trips. His slacks were black, well fitted and he wore a nice, wool pull over sweater underneath an old cloak. Draco was in Harry’s study when he came out of the bedroom, flipping through one of his scrapbooks.

“I thought you didn’t like attention,” Draco drawled, looking through the one in particular with newspaper clippings.

“I kept every clipping either about me or something important,” Harry shrugged. “They’re still part of my memories whether or not I like them.”

“And my Mother and I are deemed important?” Draco smirked over his shoulder, pointing out the particular article after his Father’s arrest.

Harry rolled his eyes. “At the time your Father was the reason I kept that one. But, you’re important to me now.” He snaked his arms around Draco’s middle, kissing him chastely on the neck.

Draco smiled, eyes running over the familiar picture before closing the book again. “Ready then?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Are _you_ ready?”

“For attention and nosy, bullheaded reporters? Always.” Draco grinned. Harry stepped into the Floo first and Draco soon followed after.

They arrived in the Leaky Cauldron. It was a Saturday afternoon and the first nice one in a while so it was rather packed. Harry cursed his luck. Ducking his head, he led the way through the pub and promptly avoided Tom’s attention as he snuck out the back and through the Diagon Alley entrance. Draco wasn’t far behind and Harry was thankful he didn’t try to grab a hold of him or make any attention in the pub. Once out on the streets, bustling mostly with smaller kids and their parents, Draco strode beside Harry, his hand groped for his and wrapped around his fingers. Their cloaks fell to their wrists, nearly hiding it.

They made it all the way to Gringotts without being noticed, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. But the moment they left it began. The whispers at first, people asking one another if that was really the Harry Potter. Then the other hushed questions, whether or not he was holding hands with a former Death Eater. “Let’s go to George’s, ‘eh?” Harry offered in a mumble.

“And miss all the fun that’s about to begin?” Draco smirked. Harry groaned, was he really going to attract more attention? “Alright, fine. Don’t get your kneazel in a knot, Harry.”

But it was too late. There were a couple flashes of a camera, Harry blinked a few times. “For Merlin’s sake. I never understand how they are so bloody fast!”

“Harry Potter! Mister Potter! Is it true that you are pursuing a relationship with a Death Eater?!”

“Malfoy, that’s a Malfoy, I’m sure of it! Mister Potter, are you aware of-“

“How can you be enjoying this?” Harry snarled beneath his breath, grabbing tighter onto Draco’s hands and pulling him through the budding crowds.

Draco shrugged. “I am not so much enjoying it as getting it over with. The sooner they bombard us the sooner they can leave us alone.”

Draco had a point, Harry had to admit, but it still didn’t mean he liked it. They made their way through the streets, seeking momentary refuge in George’s shop where any media had already been banned two years ago after a particular incident involving Rita Skeeter and a possessed pygmy puff. George welcomed them warily, never being completely comfortable in Draco’s presence. It wasn’t long before they were in the barrage once again, making their way to Madame Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions. Thankfully, the old seamstress witch shoed away all unwanted cameras and notebooks from her doorstep.

“Well, when I fitted both of your school robes all those years ago I didn’t expect to see this,” she smiled softly at the two of them. “Come on, then. Let’s see what I can do for you. The usual set of winter robes for you, Mister Malfoy?”

“Please, Madame. I am afraid my measurements might need to be taken again.”

“Of course. And for you, Mister Potter?”

“For him, the same but different lining. You should see the atrocious state of his robes, I am quite certain he hasn’t gotten new ones in a decade.”

Madame Malkin’s lips curled up into a small smile. “I can most certainly vouch for that. Come boys, let’s get you fitted.”

* * *

For the most part their trip to Diagon Alley wasn’t half as disastrous as Harry had expected it to be. There was a large featured article of horrible speculations and a picture of the two of them making their way through the crowds on the front page of the Prophet the next morning. There were whispers and the odd question of inquiry at work the following week, but it settled rather nicely. It seemed, like Harry’s friends, people were intent on forgetting what happened in the War and thought Draco had redeemed himself with his time in Azkaban.

Harry couldn’t be happier. He could be himself, he wasn’t afraid any longer to go out with his boyfriend, and the two of them grew closer every day. He often wondered if they were always destined for this, the passion they had for one another was prominent since the day they met. It was well into spring when Harry’s things kept mysteriously finding their homes in Draco’s house. It started with a few outfits for when he stayed overnight. Then there were some books left in his study. Then his toiletries. Then his DVDs. It didn’t take long after that for Draco to suggest Harry move everything of importance over and Harry found himself, without hesitation, agreeing. Ron and Hermione warned him he was taking it too quickly, it hadn’t even been a year. But he shook his head and tried to explain what him and Draco had was almost as definite as Ron and Hermione. Everything felt right. Everything made sense and they were opposite sides of the same sickle.

Blaise hadn’t been too pleased about the living situation but he spent most of his time at Sadie’s. Soon after Harry moved in, he stayed only a night a week and then only when he had drank too much. His things were slowly disappearing from the house, making way for Harry’s and the new things they bought together. When Blaise’s room was emptied, they left it as such. An unanswered, unasked question hung in the closed room at all times, one neither brought up. Who would occupy said room? Where were the two of them heading? Was any sort of a family a possibility?

But then Harry’s happiness was suddenly shattered.

It happened one evening when he was out with Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna0. Hermione was pregnant again as was Luna for the first time. Rose was at the Burrow with her grandparents for the evening and the old friends were out to dinner in Hogsmeade. Draco was having a small dinner party with Pansy, Nott, Marcus Flint and his wife Daphne Greengrass. That particular group of Slytherin’s Harry tended to steer clear of when it was possible.

They were having dinner peacefully, catching up and joking around. The small, round stone in Harry’s pocket turned into a great heat. He looked up with surprise and over at Ron who was already reaching into his pocket, pulling out the same Ministry stone. It was how they called specific Auror’s into the office. They said their hasty goodbye’s and apparated to the Ministry. They were greeted immediately upon entry in the Apparation corridor by the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, himself.

“Harry, Mr Weasley,” he greeted sounding strained.

“Minister, sir, what’s happened?” Ron asked hurriedly. He knew Shacklebolt wouldn’t use the stones for any other reasons than an urgent one.

“There’s been an escape. Not just one, but five.”

“An escape?” Ron asked, where would people be escaping from?

But Harry’s face drained of colour. He knew where from and he closed his eyes tightly, praying to Godric it wasn’t who he thought it was. “Who?” he croaked eventually.

Kingsley’s face fell. “Macnair, the remaining surviving Lestrange, Goyle Jr. and…” he paused, frowning at Harry, “…Malfoy Senior.”

“Fucking bollocks!” Harry swore. “Ron, call in every Auror you bloody well can, take them and Shacklebolt to the office for debriefing. I’ll Floo over to Azkaban, convene with the guards on what happened. I’ll be back when I can.” Harry stormed off, his heart hammering angrily.


	10. Chapter Ten

Getting the situation under control wasn’t quite difficult. Goyle Junior was caught within the hour of escape by the guards themselves, not far from the prison. His sentence, only a decade and a half, was extended twofold. There was a raging Fiendfyre set off near a remote muggle village that caught the Auror’s attention. Ron led a team of the best Auror’s to respond to it as quickly as possible. Macnair was caught not far from the scene. He had killed three muggle’s on his escape, causing a quick and swift sentencing for the Dementor’s Kiss without trial.

It was three days since the escape and Harry hadn’t spoken to or seen Draco. He hadn’t returned home. He was almost fearful to. He wasn’t surprised when Draco didn’t ask of his whereabouts, he was certain once the blond heard of the escape he would understand. Harry had slept in twenty minute intervals in the debriefing room or his office. He barely had eaten. He vowed not to rest till Rodolphus Lestrange was caught.

It was nearing the fourth day when a string of small murders and petty crimes amongst muggle towns caught their attention. The circumstances were odd, the muggle detectives were unable to explain half of the events. Harry personally led the next team of Auror’s into the last village of attack. The Dementor’s proved an invaluable help, locating Lestrange with ease. He fought against the seven Auror’s Harry had brought, incapacitating most of them. But Harry fought with a vengeance, the image of Bellatrix in his mind. He threw the same curse he had at his boyfriend all that time ago at Rodolphus. The man lay, sputtering on the ground, his blood slowly draining out. Harry had a half heart to leave him there but allowed Ron to transport him to St Mungo’s for immediate intensive care before, after the bleeding and injuries were sustained, he returned to Azkaban for a Dementor’s Kiss.

Finally, at long last, without a trail, without a clue, with Lucius still at large but in dire need of sleep, Harry returned home. There was a team of surveillance Auror’s that worked round the clock in shifts. Harry knew there wasn’t much else that could be done and he found himself torn with the next step to take. Draco was in the kitchen, finishing up dinner for himself. When Harry entered he quickly stopped what he was doing and threw his arms around him, embracing him tightly.

“I knew you would be fine but it’s just so nice to see you home,” Draco whispered into Harry’s hair, nuzzling into his neck.

Harry sighed, hugging him lightly back and stepping away. Draco kissed him lightly but only for a moment, noting his drained state. “Sit. I’m nearly done with Bolognese and then straight to bed with you.”

Harry merely obeyed, sitting at the table. “So you heard?”

“Of course I did. Everybody heard. I just don’t understand how four nameless criminals were able to escape Azkaban,” Draco shook his head.

Harry sighed heavily. Right, of course, the Ministry had yet to release any information on the names of those who had escaped. “It turns out there is a certain sector of Dementor’s who remain loyal to a dead lord,” Harry muttered.

Draco huffed at that. “Who would figure Dementor’s to be revolutionists?”

“Draco,” Harry said softly. He knew he had to tell him.

“Do you feel up to some salad, too? A drink? I’ve been going mad here by myself for the past few days. Maybe we could have a bath together before you go off to-“

“Draco,” Harry repeated a little louder.

“Hm? No bath, okay it was only a suggestion but you know what happens when-“

“Draco!” Harry shouted, startling Draco from his work at the stove. He turned to face him, his faced perplexed at Harry’s ill look. “Draco, I don’t know how to say this but…he was one of them. Your Father is the only one who escaped that we still haven’t found.”

Draco’s face fell immediately but he quickly covered it with a mask, one Harry hadn’t seen in quite some time. He turned back towards the stove and silently worked at dinner again. Harry sighed, standing up and making his way over to him. He touched his shoulder gently only to have it shaken off. “I wanted to tell you but I wasn’t sure how to. I wasn’t sure if you already knew-“

“Or if I was hiding him?” Draco interrupted coldly.

Harry shook his head quickly. Draco had stopped in cooking, he hunched over the counter. “No. I would never think that. Or well, I did but then I thought you would never do that to _us._ ”

“Are you sure about that?” Draco asked shakily.

Harry knew he wouldn’t contemplate it. Whenever Draco spoke of Lucius it was with certain discontent. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, leaning into his back. “I’m sure. I know you’re not him, Draco. I know a part of you is happy that you will never have to see him again,” Harry said softly.

Draco huffed, leaning into Harry as he did so. “He’s still my Father, you know.”

“I know. Are you saying you’re glad he escaped?”

“Not at all. That man choose his beliefs over his family long ago. He doesn’t deserve his freedom, not after everything he did. Not after everything he has put me and my mother through,” Draco said coolly. “That doesn’t mean I want him to…I reckon I can gather what the penalties of the others were.”

Harry nodded slowly, he knew what he was getting at. “Macnair and Lestrange received the Dementor’s Kiss. Goyle Junior was one of them, his sentence was elongated but no Kiss.”

“Goddammit Goyle,” Draco growled beneath his breath. Harry touched held onto him tighter. He knew Draco was a different person but it was still his relatives, his childhood friend.

“I’m sorry. I really wish it had been anybody but Goyle and your Dad.”

Draco shrugged. “Not much you can do, you have to do your job. Is there any trace on my father?”

“You know I can’t…” Harry stopped himself, what odds. “No, none. The others had easy traces on them. Lucius proves to be elusive.”

“The Manor. It’s warded against people not of blood. I can get you in, if I bring you as an escort, but nobody can enter without a member of the household. Not ever since the ending of the War,” Draco explained.

“You don’t have to-“

“I do. The sooner he is arrested the better. It leaves less of a chance for him to do something to receive the Kiss.”

Harry nodded quietly. He hadn’t expected Draco’s help. “When?” Harry asked delicately.

“You need a good night’s rest it looks like. Come on, dinner’s ready,” Draco urged, his mask still firmly in place as he slipped out of Harry’s arms. Harry sighed and nodded, sitting back down at the table.

* * *

Harry didn’t like this one bit. But there wasn’t any other way. Draco had asked for his Father’s dignity of not being dragged in by a Weasley. Harry promised he would do it alone. So the very next evening the two of them set off together for Malfoy Manor by means of Floo. Draco altered the wards for a guest to enter, they closed as soon as Harry was through.

For the first time in years, Harry was underneath his Invisibility Cloak and quietly followed Draco through the eerily quiet Manor. Even the House Elves left them undisturbed. Draco seemed to know where his father would be, despite the vastness of the home. He retreated immediately to his study. The door was ajar, light poured in through it. There were voices, two of them, coming from within.

“Do you really think it wise to stay, my dear?” Narcissa could be heard. Draco stiffened visibly, he hadn’t expected his mother to be there.

“Anywhere else I go they will find me, ‘Cissy! I can’t go back there! I refuse. When the opportunity presented itself, how could I not take it? If I return, or risk it, there is certainly a Kiss waiting for me,” Lucius’ voice seemed shaken, almost fearful. Draco had never heard his father sound as such but then again Azkaban will do that to a man after many years.

“And you think it is safe to hide here for the rest of ever? What sort of life is that, Lucius?” Narcissa reasoned.

“Better than that of an inmate, I assure you!”

Narcissa could be heard sighing, her tone softened even further with her next words. “And of our son?”

“Draco? What of him, have you seen him?” Lucius hastily asked, a slight bit of excitement behind his words.

“Though I have yet to hear it from him, I still receive the Daily Prophet regularly. He has strange new allegiances, darling. To the Potter boy.”

Lucius could be heard growling gutturally. “Don’t you lie to me, Narcissa! Draco would never! It’s a betrayal!”

“The way he sees it you are the one who has already done the betraying.”

Draco turned to Harry ashen faced. “Can you at least give me a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Harry hissed his whisper in reply. He trusted Draco. Even though it was three Malfoy’s to himself, he knew Draco wouldn’t turn on him. He at least gave him the opportunity to speak to his parents first.

When Draco finally stepped through the doorway into the light of the study, both of his parents stilled. Lucius was the first to close the distance, he ran for Draco with arms wide open, enveloping his son who was quick to shove him back. “Father,” he greeted coldly, ignoring his mother in the distance watching with pursed lips.

“Draco, why do you deny me my son? I am back, after all these years-“

“You shouldn’t be,” Draco cut him off. Lucius gaped like a goldfish as his son walked around him, his back to him. He had his wand clutched visibly in his hands. “I meant what I said when I visited you, Lucius. You deserved to pay your dues there. You were not to be imprisoned for life, Lucius, you could have gotten out a decade from now on patrol with magic limiters. But no, you are far too selfish to use any semblance of logic.” Draco was spiteful, his words laced with venom. He was beside his mother now who put a small hand on his shoulder.

“It is good to see you, son,” she whispered, a small amount of affection audible in her voice.

Harry felt unnerved as a spectator. It was such a private moment amongst a family and he felt he was intruding.  “If that is truly what you think than I have no choice but to-“ Draco was more intent on his mother than the movements his father was making. Somehow he had gotten hold of a wand, perhaps the House Elves assisted in the matter. Harry, thankfully was trained to be quick and act when necessary.

From beneath his cloak he didn’t even need to speak as he disarmed Lucius. Lucius blinked a few times, confused. “What the devil is the meaning of this?” he hissed.

Harry threw off his cloak, revealing himself not far from Lucius, his wand raised at him. “You are under arrest, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, for restricted release from Azkaban Prison.”

Lucius’ hair curled at the sound of the voice, his body chilled. He turned to face Harry, a deep scowl on his face. If Narcissa was surprised of his presence she didn’t show it. “Harry Potter, you loathsome, meddling fool of a boy!” Harry merely held his gaze unmoving, he wanted to give Draco his time. “What Narcissa said was true then, boy? You are in allegiance with this – this pathetic excuse for a wizard?!” He turned back to his son, finger raised.

Draco lowered his wand and stepped forward from his mother, approaching his father with a thorough look of disdain. “That pathetic excuse for a wizard just happens to be _my boyfriend_ and he is ten times the man I have ever seen from you.” Draco spoke lowly but his words hit like punches. Lucius looked appalled, disgusted, distraught and disheartened all at once.

In any other circumstance, Harry would be pleased with the compliments, but in comparison to Lucius Malfoy it didn’t hold as much merit. “Draco, my dear Draco, you cannot be serious. We are your family. Your own flesh and blood!”

“I know. And yet, I love Harry more than either of the two of you.” Draco said those words and Harry was certain both he and Lucius were going to fall apart at the same time.

Draco had never verbalized it. Harry had on a few occasions, usually after a long intimate evening, but Draco wasn’t the sentimental type to put words to his feelings. Harry felt a warmth spread inside of himself, despite the situation he had to bite back a happy grin. Lucius was rambling again, about the impossibility of it all, when Draco shot Harry a saddened look and nodded his head ever so gently.

Harry conjured the binding cuffs. Lucius leaped in slight surprise as his hands were wound together behind his back. “And I shall repeat. You, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, are under arrest for restricted release from Azkaban Prison as well as the pending crimes held against you-“

“And for abandoning your family. For putting yourself above your own child, your own wife,” Draco added bitterly. It had been a long time since Harry saw as much hate in his eyes as Draco was directing at his father at that moment.

Lucius was on the verge of tears as Harry grabbed his lower arm forcibly. The old man was so weakened from Azkaban Harry could have easily carried him from the residence. “I would like to make a plea deal. With the Head Auror. A plea, for sensitive information regarding the whereabouts of any unknown Death Eaters,” Lucius said hurriedly, realizing he didn’t have many other options.

Draco scoffed, following as Harry continued to escort him out towards the foyer. They would need to leave the grounds to properly apparate to the Ministry. “Lucius, considering the Head Auror is currently the one detaining you, I see that as highly unlikely,” Draco was now alongside Harry, shooting glances every so often behind his back at his mother who followed elegantly, void of emotion as she watched her husband arrested for the fourth time in their marriage.

“Any information you think you have available for us is useless,” Harry added evenly. Lucius continued to protest, he yelled all the way out of the grounds. Once they reached passed the wards Harry turned to Narcissa, studying the woman. “I will have to bring you in as well, Mrs Malfoy-“

“Black, please,” Narcissa said softly.

“Ms Black. It is only for procedure and you will need to be questioned under Veritaserum to ensure you were not in any way involved with the break out or hiding of Lucius in anyway.”

“I understand, Mister Potter,” she nodded, linking her arm through her sons. “It has been so long since I have apparated there, Draco darling, do you mind?”

Draco nodded deftly, his eyes still focused on the man he once called his father. Harry steadied Lucius on his arm, getting ready to apparate when Narcissa spoke again. “Perhaps once this is all sorted out, the two of you could join an old woman for dinner.” Draco looked about to protest but Harry attempted a small, sporting smile.

“Of course, Ms Black, we would be delighted.”


	11. Epilogue

_Nine years later._

“Do we really have to go all the way to your mothers again?” Harry groaned. His knees were covered in dirt, he was hunched over in their back garden tending to the vegetables and herbs, pulling any wayward weeds as he did. He could use magic, he knew, but he much preferred to use his hands keeping himself occupied in the summer heat.

“You were the one who was so insistent on being close with her,” Draco shrugged, although Harry couldn’t see it from the window. He was currently spelling dishes away from their lunch, the window to the backyard left open.

“Maybe we could bring Ron, ‘Mione and the kids again,” Harry suggested slyly.

“No. Never again. Hugo nearly gave my poor mother a heart attack last time with that unfathomable invention George calls a toy. Honestly, how half the things that man sells is legal is beyond me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, sitting back in the grass and wiping off his knees, throwing his gloves to the side. “You’re just jealous that you weren’t allowed to carry Erumpent horns.”

“I’ve got a bloody Apothecary. Erumpent parts are necessary sometimes! Honestly, I will murder Granger within an inch of her life if she makes any other rare ingredients illegal to obtain,” he grumbled which Harry had to chuckle softly at.

There was a loud thud from within the house followed by a few moments of silence. “Daaaad! Daaaaaddy!”

Draco groaned as the call was followed by animated, shrill barks. “Your turn, Harry. She’s probably done something horrible to Rin again.”

Harry smirked and brushed himself off as good as he could and walked ito the house. “Once she gets used to the Crup she’ll leave him-“

“DAD!” Lily Luna Potter-Malfoy yelled at the top of her small lungs. For a five year old she was quite loud. Harry winced and hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He found his daughter, her blindingly blond hair and large green eyes, looking worriedly up at him when he entered her room. Harry bent down to his knees, openly calling her over. She clambered up to his side, settling down on his lap and burying her head into her Dad. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“He took it! Rin went and took the dragon you made for my birthday! He won’t give it back!” She whined, pouting out her thin lips. Harry ran a hand through her long, fine hair, smiling softly.

“Did you try to ask for it nicely?”

Lily huffed as her father slid her off of his lap. “Rin?” Harry called. Immediately the small puppy Crup ran from underneath her four poster bed and to Harry, lapping at his hand. Harry pet the dog softly, within its jaws the small toy dragon Harry had made. “Tata,” Harry ordered softly. The Crup looked wary at first but obeyed, as he always did when Harry or Draco spoke, and released the toy into his waiting hand. “Good boy.”

Harry turned back to his daughter, handing her the unharmed toy. “See? Sometimes you just have to ask nicely.”

“Yeah but Daddy never asks nicely for anything and still gets what he wants,” Lily pouted defiantly.

Harry chuckled, ruffling the little girls hair, he needn’t ask which Dad she was speaking about. “Then I think we should give Daddy a proper time-out then, hm?”

Lily grinned largely up at Harry, nodding her head excitedly. “Yeah! That’ll teach him a lesson!”

“Later though. Grab your things, we are going to Nana’s again today.”

“Nana’s Cissa?!” Lily asked elatedly. Harry nodded, the child immediately ran over to haul a few of her favourite toys out.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready, Lil!” Harry said and smiled as his daughter ran about her room collecting her things before returning to the kitchen.

Draco was just finishing up his cleaning when Harry approached him from behind, his arms wrapped around his waist as he left a small trail of kisses up his neck. Draco shivered and turned around to meet Harry’s lips with his own for a moment. “Is the little boggart ready?”

“Nearly. There’s enough time for more of this, however,” Harry drawled and captured Draco’s lips again. They kissed like it was their first time. Almost always were they left breathless, wanting more until they got more.

“Ew! Gross, Dad!” Lily covered her eyes at the entrance of the kitchen.

Draco and Harry both laughed in unison, reluctantly pulling apart. “You won’t think it’s so gross when you’re older,” Harry said.

Draco walked over to scoop Lily up into his arms, heaving as he did, it wouldn’t be something he could do for much longer. “Ready to go, Lil?”

“Yes! Maybe Nana Cissa will let me play with her wand again this time!”

Harry and Draco looked at each other frightfully. “Not if we can help it,” Harry quipped. Draco led the way to the Floo, his daughter in tow as Harry watched, slowly following behind.

He never imagined a simple phone could have given him so much. A simple, drunken prank that had failed miserably gave him a life he never knew he could have. With his and Draco’s genetics they were able to find a surrogate, Luna Longbottom, to carry a child for them. At first it was difficult, harder than it seemed worthwhile, but now Harry couldn’t imagine his little family any other way. He felt truly blessed for what he finally had achieved.

“Coming, Harry?” Draco called softly, snapping Harry from his reverie as he stood now in the study.

“Yeah, Daddy, or else Nana is gonna eat all the treacle tarts before we even get there!” Lily sounded almost as if she believed it.

Harry smiled blindingly at the two he loved more than anything else in the world. “Yes, I’m coming,” he obliged softly.


End file.
